In Dreams
by statira
Summary: -started pre HBP- "Hermione opened her door curious as to who could be there..." Her life was complicated enough before fate played its hand. All she’d wanted was a simple life and now she was more confused than ever.
1. Prologue

**A/N**: (for whole story) Italics in the present are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

_You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces. _

_Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled. Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you. _

_And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation._

- 'The Prophet', Kahlil Gibran

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Prologue:**

Catherine deposited her armful of carrots into the large, deep sink. She wiped away the stream of rain from her forehead with the back of her hand. The sky was as dark as slate, the rain had really picked up in the last half an hour. She glanced at the small kitchen clock and wondered what was taking her husband so long. The changeable weather always made his knee seize. A flashing red light on the kitchen dresser caught her eye.

"Hello Mum, I guess you're not there." The soft, melodic voice of a young woman spoke. "I'm – _for God's sake put that down, I'm talking to my mother_ – Sorry… I'm arriving on the ten o'clock train. And Mum, don't worry about Mark, he'll be fine. I'll…" The woman was cut off by the beep.

Catherine pulled the mud encrusted Wellingtons from her warm feet and sank back into the kitchen chair sighing deeply. What had she done to deserve this, her son was separating from his wife and her daughter was co-habiting with a divorced man. These things just did not happen when she was young. When the kitchen of 'Laverly Farm' was filled with people, when the homely scent of Aunt Jose's Beef Wellington greeted her every Sunday after mass.

The sound of the latch on the back door snapped her back from her memories of bread & butter pudding and apple preserves; that would be Charles. She turned to her husband standing in pools of water, his oil skinned jacket weighed down over his shoulders and a drenched brown wool cap sat upon his balding head. Her smile froze on her face when her husband stepped aside ushering a man inside. Though she'd never seen him, she knew instantly he was the stranger spotted aimlessly wandering two nights ago by Elaine. His dirt encrusted black hair was long and tangled. Two small eyes darted frantically about beneath his matted fringe, he resembled a trapped animal. Tracks of rain had streaked down his muddy cheeks. Her beagle, Polly, growled lowly from behind her legs.

The excited buzz of gossip still resonated around the village. It was a starless night; the sky had been illuminated in an emerald glow. The light was so bright it had disturbed livestock and awoken slumbering children. The canines could be heard answering each others mournful howls. Car alarms had rung through the night. Already the story was morphong into one of legend.

Mrs. Asherton had been Catherine's friend for over thirty years, during which time she'd learnt to take what Elaine said with a pinch of salt. Catherine remembered the night to have been starless, but only due to the low cloud cover. The sullen clouds had been there all week; she couldn't hang out her washing for the spitting rain. Robert Asherton, Elaine's son, had for once in his silly life, explained it. He told her it was due to atoms or molecules filtering or something technical she could not understand. He said it was pollution. She'd smiled politely when he resorted back to petitioning for the protection of Red Grouse.

Catherine indicated for her husband to step aside. "Who's this?"

"I couldn't leave him out in the weather like his, he'd die," answered Charles.

"You didn't need to bring him here," she argued. "He could be a murderer for all we know."

"Catherine, don't be dramatic – just for tonight if it makes you feel better."

She knew when she was defeated. "You'd better lock the bedroom door then!"

"I see you forgot the carrots again!" Charles commented pointing to the sink. He turned back to the man and winked and called to his wife. "Could you get our guest a towel?"

* * *


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

**In Dreams**

**Chapter One**

* * *

_A gentle knock brings Hermione out of her silent reverie. She reluctantly pushes back her chair from the oak writing desk it makes a dull, scraping noise from the friction with the floorboards. Hermione slowly opens the door curious as to who could be there. To the best of her knowledge she is alone in this house. She is distracted and forgets to grab her wand. She peeks out to sneak a glimpse of her mysterious visitor._

"_Oh it's you," she says disdainfully, throwing her door open and turning her back. She receives no reply and the body makes no attempt to move. This irritates the young woman._

"_Well aren't you going to come in?"_

_The person crosses the threshold closing the door behind silently him. It is a man; the heavy squeak from his leather shoes on the naked flooring determines that. However, he still declines to speak instead gazing gently at her back. Hermione, growing tired of this, turns to face him. He is tall with a superior posture. She hates when men slouch. His ebony hair falls into his dark eyes, framing his defined features and strong jaw line. He looks better than the last time she saw him, the colour has returned to his cheeks and he is no longer so sallow. He has filled out too, before his clothing fell loosely around his weak structure but now, the dark clothes cling to his sculptured body. Hermione continues to stare contemptuously at him waiting for his vocal cords to go into action. She eventually concludes that this is futile._

"_Why are you here?" she asks exasperated._

_The man takes one step forward keeping his eyes firmly on her, yet still he refuses to answer her questions. _

"_What do you want?" _

_He is fast approaching her. This, coupled with the intense look in his eyes, is beginning to unnerve her. She steps back but soon runs out of floor. She finds herself backed against a wall; it is cold. He is still advancing on her. She feels the urge to scream but no sound comes out, she swallows and attempts again. However, the labour is pointless, if she shrieks no one would hear her- she… They are alone in a house in the middle of nowhere. No one will answer her call. He stops right in front of her starring into her chocolate brown eyes. Her feeling of fear melts away. His eyes are fiery and full of passion. _

"_Why are you here?" she says again only this time tenderly. _

_He cups her face in his hands and gently leans down kissing her lips. She does not pull away. She can not explain it, she suddenly finds herself wanting him. Eros' bow strikes her unaware. All she knows is she wants him to kiss her again and again. He pulls away commencing his burning glances again. Her heart is racing and her breath has quickened, she has to bit her lip to keep some control. _

_She is looking back into his dark eyes; she has to kiss him. She wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up to towards him. He captures her lips in the most passionate embrace she has ever experienced. His long fingers trawl up her back; the warmth against her cool back causes her to shiver. Her mouth opens in a low moan as his tongue slowly moves over her lower lip; he takes her petite face in his large hands, caressing her tongue with his. She fears if he lets go, she may fall in a heap at his feet._

_His tongue trails along her jaw line until it finds her neck. He picks her up, as if she weighed nothing, and brings her to her bed. His hands expertly begin removing her clothing without his mouth breaking contact with her lips. She too begins to undress the man that only ten minutes ago had made her feel so uneasy. Hermione runs her tiny hand over his back, feeling the knots of muscles and smooth toned skin. _

_One of the man's hands slips beneath her white lacy bra and gently rubs her breast, as the other reaches behind her to unhook the material separating them. Her bra is hastily flung from the bed as he begins kissing the valley between her pert breasts; he trails his teeth across her nipples, as she instinctively lifts her pelvis to meet him. She can feel his excitement although that is apparent in his strokes and caresses. He places kisses in a path down towards her knave, his tongue trailing over the light hairs causing a slight ticklish sensation, which proves to arouse her more. Soon his lips find their way to between her thighs. She rolls her head back in delight, clutching the sheets and biting her lip. She can no longer hold in the urge to moan and groan loudly. Hermione makes to return the favour but the young man shakes his head and tenderly pushes her back down on the bed. He gently flows his right index finger over her lithe form. He leans over and she encircles his broad hips with her thighs. _

_He whispers in a low pleading voice. "Help me Hermione. Please help me." _

_She is too distracted to notice she has not seen him in ten years, yet he does not look a day over thirty-six or more importantly how can he be here? Sirius Black is __dead. _

* * *

**Early October 2005**

Hermione lay on the white cotton sheets, her body twisted. Her leg swung over the edge of the mattress. The weather was turning; she could feel the cool breeze creeping in and silently caressing her awkward limbs. She mentally reminded herself to get the window fixed. Eventually succumbing, she gently stole from the bed in an effort not to awake her slumbering boyfriend. Unfortunately, Hermione's foot collided with a carelessly discarded Mary-Jane and she tumbled forward, hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud. She heard the movements of the awakening man on the crisp sheets.

"Hermione?" the voice asked groggily.

The named witch stood nursing a bruised hip. "Yes?"

"Why are you up so early?" His soft Welsh accent broke under a barely concealed yawn. "It's what… about seven?"

"I have work."

The young man leaned up on his elbows. "Do you have to work today?" He asked with a sleepy expression.

"Yes," Hermione answered resentfully.

"Well if you wait for me, I'll come with you. I have to go to Diagon Alley anyway."

"Kevin! I'm perfectly capable of going alone. I told you before…" she abruptly stopped noticing her boyfriend properly for the first time that morning. He was leaning up shakily in the bed, his chestnut hair gleamed a deep ruby in a dust filled ray, as it fell into his squinting eyes. It was not fair to take it out on him. If she refused to confide in him, how could he be of any help? She could not ignore her sudden guilt for not only being grumpy but also for the smouldering grey eyes she just envisioned he had.

"Sorry Kevin, it's just I've been so tired lately. It's O.K.; you stay in bed and sleep. You'll need it."

"Right… but I'll see you later though, yeah?" Without waiting for a reply Kevin rolled over and fell back into a light slumber, to both Hermione's annoyance and jealousy.

She knew she was acting insanely waspish lately. She had caught herself, last week, about to scream at some poor student in the corner shop. Something was not right and as she walked into her bathroom, careful to make as little sound, she could not shake the feeling she had forgotten something.

"Yeah, my sanity," she grumbled bitterly.

* * *

Hermione arrived in Diagon Alley a little while later, holding two polystyrene cups of coffee and an armful of tracts and parchment. She fumbled with the contents of her arms juggling the coffee and books in an effort to access the door to her business.

"You call yourself a witch," a bemused voice called behind her.

"Remus, stop being a nuisance and open the door."

Remus Lupin took the offered coffee and sat at the counter, immediately he spread the Daily Prophet out and brought the warm polystyrene to his lips. Hermione spied him over the rim of her coffee, studying him like she had not in many years. His hair had turned almost entirely grey now, although some of the golden brown shown through. She realised his face, however, had not changed much. Hermione guessed the combination of a steady job and a secure home had helped. His clothing, though no longer tattered, was always simple and well worn.

Sometimes when he laughed he looked no more than a young mischievous boy, most notably around his pale blue eyes or his heart warming smile. She could easily see why Tonks had fallen for him. Once or twice she had witnessed some of his hidden pain, normally around Halloween, but generally he looked satisfied with his lot.

Hermione brought a hand to her cropped hair; she had celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday only the previous month. She had graduated top of her year and Head Girl. Although, to everyone's surprise, Hermione didn't take a job at the Ministry, she didn't become a teacher. The girl with the ability to do or become anything she could desire, decided to open a small book shop in Diagon Alley and give her close friend and favourite professor a job. She realized that there were things in life more important than success. She just wanted a simple life and to do something she really enjoyed. Working in a bookshop was one of them. Her customers were few, as she dealt mainly in rare and specialised books. Although, towards the end of August when the Hogwarts students arrived, she was always reminded why she chose to do this.

"How's Tonks?" Hermione asked believing it was up to her to initiate the conversation. Remus and Tonks had been dating for a few years now. After Sirius' death Remus found comfort in the open arms of a distraught cousin.

"Yeah she's fine, actually she was asking about you. She wants you to come over at Christmas," he replied.

"And you don't?" she asked jokingly but her voice carried a certain seriousness. "I'll have to check with Kevin but I'd love to." She wondered if Harry would be there.

"…Hermione?"

"What sorry I didn't hear you," said Hermione, slightly dazed.

"Always thinking of something… I said did you get your invitation to Harry's wedding?"

"Oh yes," she answered although mumbling 'of course' under her breath.

Harry's wedding; she'd forgotten about that. She only received an invitation last week. On reading it she realised she was surprised to receive one. She couldn't be sure was it Ginny or Harry's idea but she suspected Mrs. Weasley had a hand in it. They blamed her for what happened to Ron, it wasn't her fault- she knew that now.

Hermione spent the day in a daze not hearing when customers came in to the shop; walking into tables and bookshelves. It wasn't until nearly closing when Hermione knocked over a particularly high pile of books, that Remus asked what was wrong.

"I don't know. I've been walking around in a daze all week. I don't know what's wrong."

"How are you sleeping?" he inquired.

"Fine, though I never remember my dreams anymore, perhaps a bit too much Dreamless potion after seventh year."

The dreams came back in broken sequences; she could never recall a dream in its entirety, only that there was a man. She had no idea to who the shadowed face belonged, remembering only the intensity in his eyes or his perfect Cupid's bow. She'd see the lips moving, feel her head nod frantically but would never hear the words. His mute mouth spilling forth some unknown clue she could not decipher.

The dreams had started so suddenly that she still recollect awakening that first time trembling, her heart racing. Sometimes her mind wandered to those smoky eyes and drifted to the memory the dreams invoked of bruised lips. She'd often find her fingers subconsciously trailing over the smooth, plump flesh of her lower lip.

"Maybe you should take some time off, you never took a break after you graduated," Remus said concerned.

"I couldn't Remus, Voldemort was still gaining power, and I wasn't sure what I wanted to do so I had to figure that out and then… then there was R…Ron…"

"That wasn't your fault Hermione," Remus said in a soft voice.

"I know," she said watching him carefully. "Look do you mind if I head off, my head is killing me."

Remus stared at her blanched face. "Sure. You're creating too much work for me anyway." Something was bothering her.

* * *

Hermione fumbled with the key to her front door, she couldn't see through her blurred vision. It didn't help that she also couldn't steady her shaking hand. Eventually she gave up and used her wand to gain access. She slammed the door loudly behind her; she wanted to get in as fast as possible. Hermione leaned her head back against the cold door gulping from trying to prevent the tears from escaping. Slowly she slid down the wood until she was slumped with her knees under her chin. The tears were flowing freely from her puffy, sore brown eyes.

As soon as she believed she could move she slowly stood shakily up and went in search of Kevin; but he'd gone out. Instead she settled for collapsing on her queen-sized bed and holding her feather pillow closely. The musky smell of her boyfriend evident, trapped between the fibres of the linen cover. She sat silently rocking on her bed for a few moments not really thinking just staring off into the distance. Without being fully conscious of her actions her arm reached out to her bedside locker, hidden beneath some tattered, scrunched, scraps of parchment was a solitary photograph. She removed the crumpled object and traced her finger over the creases along the centre and sides; they resembled a cross. It was a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ron were messing with each other, ruffling the other's hair in a playful manner and pushing each other jokingly. Hermione, who still had the bush of brown curls, was standing with her hands folded across her chest trying abysmally to hide the smirk present on her face. Colin Creevy had taken the picture of the trio a couple of weeks before they graduated. Hermione brushed off the dust that had settled on the image, her finger momentarily lingering on the smiling face of Ronald Weasley. She could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes fighting to be released. She missed them both so very, very much. The anniversary of Ron's death was coming up, almost seven years; just under half his age when he was killed.

* * *

_February 1999_

_A death eater was holding Hermione against her will. The masked man had her hands forced around her back painfully pulling them in ways they physically couldn't bend. The man was stronger than her, he had her held firm. Her only movement was the occasional painful violent struggling fit. This was halted however when another dark robed figure floated over with his wand twirling around his fingers. Though she couldn't see the second man's face she could tell he was once high in Voldemort's ranks. He walked with an air of elegance that struck fear in people. This was a person you didn't speak back to; he rated himself better than most people, including half the death eaters. He stopped in front of the young girl, her robes were ripped and bloody, her face was paling and she was biting her lip to stop the tears of pain escaping. The second man extended his long, thin finger to the girls face and traced it gently down her cheek until the path led to under her chin. Curving his finger, he lifted her face to meet him._

"_Well aren't you a pretty one… pity you're a Mudblood." His voice was deep, cold and dripping with superiority. It invoked a feeling of disgust in the pit of Hermione's stomach. She pulled her head away from his disturbing finger and once again tried fruitlessly to detangle her arms from her captor. She knew intuitively that although his lips were hidden that he was smirking._

"_How about we have some fun with the Mudblood," the death eater holding her asked. His voice was sleazy and greasy. The fact he was even touching her with his nicotine stained, rough hands, made her want to be sick, but now… _

_For a moment Hermione thought the other more dignified death eater faltered, but he replied sneeringly, "Do what you wish." _

_She screamed inside her head, fighting back the tears harder, that would only spur them on. They'd like to see her cry. Her lower lip was quivering, and the salty water in her eyes was forming a meniscus. She wondered helplessly where everyone was, why they were not helping her. She prayed they would hurry up. _

_Ron and the other Order members were almost finished duelling the rouge Death eaters. Most had been caught since Voldemort's demise but there was still a few determined to fulfil their master's wishes. At the moment only two death eaters were there, the rest were caught or had disapparated. Tonks and Kingsley Shaklebolt were busy duelling them._

"_Where's Hermione?__" Ron thought aloud, becoming frantic. __"Please no… please no."_

_Terrified what he was thinking was true he went in search of his girlfriend. "Hermione, Hermione," he shouted twirling about to make sure he was looking everywhere. _

_Harry and Remus also noticed she was missing and they joined in on the investigation. __'Where is she'__ they were all thinking, ignoring the pessimistic gut feeling. _

_Ron spotted her; she was being held by two Death Eaters and went charging towards her. Ron had grown into his height, he was no longer scrawny looking, but as he charged to save his friend, he resembled an ancient warrior. His hair flying wildly behind him and his face distorted with loathing and determination to save Hermione._

_The Death Eater taunting Hermione noticed her stall and the look of disbelief in her eyes. She'd never seen him look so handsome before, was that him or her imagination? The Death Eater followed the pathway of her eyes, to where Ron was standing like a vision with his wand held tightly in his hand. The Death Eater casually approached him._

"_So who do we have here then? Ah yes Potter's sidekick."_

_Ron's eyes narrowed dangerously and his lips pursed._

"_Oh dear! That hit a nerve Weasley?" he mocked. "And we got a new wand did we? Now how did your father afford that, stealing again?"_

"_Leave my family out of this Malfoy," he spat. _

_Draco grinned, and removed his mask, "so you're here to save the Mudblood, pity won't make a difference- so full of heroics and incredibly foolish. Weasley, you're no match for me…" _

"_We'll see about that Malfoy," spat Ron. _

_The two battled, shouting random spells at each other. Malfoy was worse off, his arm was broken from one of the hexes and he had a nasty gash pumping blood above his eye. Ron was limping and bleeding but he could still aim his curses. All the extra years Ron had spent training paid off; he was a more experienced dueller than Malfoy. Unfortunately Ron didn't see the Death eater stalk silently behind him. _

_Hermione was still being forcefully held. She was kicking hysterically, but it was futile. He was far too strong. She attempted to scream but her voice caught in her dry throat. She wanted to scream, 'Ron look behind you' but no sound emerged. A spell shot by Malfoy narrowly missed Ron's shoulder and instinctively he turned to follow its path behind him, sighing in relief. Although it was just in time to see the green light hit him in the chest and everything go black._

_Hermione watched morbidly as his lifeless body thumped to the ground and his head hit a protruding rock with a sickening crunch. It all appeared to happen in slow motion, she saw his arm rebound of the hard earth before settling beside his motionless body. Her voice broke through the deafening silence, in an anguished cry, she screamed "Ron."_

_Draco looked down at Ron's body, '__that wasn't supposed to happen. The plan was to take__him alive.'__ He turned to face Hermione; some how she had managed to release herself. He wasn't sticking around to see what she'd do. He disapparated._

_Hermione dropped heavily beside Ron's unresponsive body ignoring the stone that dug into her knee. "Please don't leave me, I need you… no don't please, please." _

_She rested her head on his chest, in too much shock to cry. There was no steady heartbeat that she had become accustom to, snuggling into him after a hard day. Her fury bubbled, they'd pay for this, and she picked up Ron's wand that had fallen a few yards from him. Her eyes were cloudy, dark and indecipherable; her face had altered into one of pure hate and want of revenge. She turned to face the two remaining Death Eaters, the one that had wanted to have 'fun' with her and Ron's murderer. They would pay. _

_Later thinking back this was all a blur to her, she never remembered what she'd done; it was all in the heat of passion. One Death Eater lay unconscious; the other was cowering at her feet. She was breathing erratically through her teeth, with her wand pointed straight at his unmasked face. The Order had found her standing over the pathetic looking Death Eater. Remus placed a hand vigilantly on her shoulder and slowly removed the wand from her hand. The two Death Eaters were reprimanded. She turned to face everyone behind her, only noticing now that she had an almost blinding pain in her shoulder. She must have dislocated it when she escaped the man's clutches. _

_She saw the look of horror in their eyes and then the question that would haunt her, "Hermione how did this happen?"_

_Hermione lay twitchily in her bed at 12 Grimmauld Place. Her sheets had tangled round her feet, and been pulled from the mattress in a long night of tossing and turning. There was no point in fixing the material; there was no point in trying to sleep either. She had given up and settled for staring at the ceiling reciting Keats to silent, still, stale air of the room. _

_She disliked this house, it was a constant reminder of death, and everywhere she looked where memories of Sirius and Ron being imbedded into her mind. Although she had never been that close to Sirius, she still missed him. In fifth year she had been sceptical of him, believing that he was using Harry as a link to James. She never doubted that he loved Harry but all that isolated time had confused him a bit. It was refreshing, however, to see his face in the mornings; he always tried to make the most of bad situations. He did it for Harry's sake and she had to admire him for that._

_The gloomy room seemed more sinister without the sound of Ginny's soft breathing, which was missing from the bed opposite. Hermione hadn't moved from the room since the incident, after the funeral she was going to stay with her parents for awhile, it had been a week. She'd have to get up today; it was the funeral. Reluctantly Hermione sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into a pair of socks she stood. Once again feeling the awful pain in her shoulder, she had refused to have it looked at, the pain made her feel something. She draped the nearest robe around her shoulders and headed for the door. The robe contained a familiar scent… vanilla? … Ron's. Breathing deeply the aroma of Ron's robe, she moved stealthily out of the room, having had no outside contact for seven days, she had lost all concept of time. She was only aware of the funeral because someone had knocked on the door the previous night. She had been staring at the waxing moon. The stairs where dimly lit making them more treacherous to walk down. She slithered down them, hoping not to awaken any sleeping bodies also she had no wish to enrage the portrait of Mrs. Black. There were voices radiating from the kitchen._

"_She hasn't left her bed in a week though."_

"_Remus, do you blame her?" replied the other voice._

"_I guess… if it had been you… I don't…" Remus noticed Tonks eying him funny and turned to see Hermione standing in the doorframe. She looked like a little kid who'd gotten lost in her father's robe, her face was pale and she looked like her consciousness had run away._

"_Hermione, how are you?" asked Tonks in a compassionate tone. _

_Hermione ignored the question and proceeded straight to the sink to get a glass of water, before returning to her bedroom._

"_She looks worse than Harry."_

_After Hermione had showered and put on her black robes, she apparated to outside a small wizard building used for funerals. Harry, Tonks and Remus joined her. This was worse, she was burying her friend, no her boyfriend. The small wizard building was packed with students from Hogwarts, she saw Neville Longbottom looking gloom beside Dean Thomas and Seamas Finnegan. The teachers were there too, Order members and people who'd been training to become Aurors with Harry and Ron. _

_The rectangular, beech coffin was up by the alter. Lit candles were floating around it, while wreaths camouflaged the floor beneath. Harry had sat down beside Ginny and the two were holding hands for support, she had her head leaning on Harry's shoulder and steady tears were flowing down her cheeks. Mrs. Weasley was crying inconsolably in Mr. Weasley's strong arms. The other Weasley's- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Bill had gathered together in a quiet group at the rear of the church. Bill's girlfriend Fleur Delacour was wiping the tears from his face. From the corner of her eye she could see Remus standing near Tonks both looking miserable, this funeral reminding them of Sirius, who never had one. Hermione sat down in a random seat and starred at her feet, she hardly noticed the service had begun, she barely noticed the choir sing._

_Dumbledore, speaking after the song, had finished, his eyes sparkling with a film of unshed tears, motioned to Harry to approach the pew. Harry stood up on request from Dumbledore; Hermione was to speak about Ron afterwards. Harry stood silently for a few moments composing himself, his hand went through his hair as he tried to catch Hermione's eye but she didn't notice. Taking a deep breath he began, his voice croaking._

"_Ron Weasley, boyfriend, son, brother, best friend. Today we say farewell to a kind, brave, loyal person. He was always there for me, for any of his friends in their times of need. Even with the treat of Lord Voldemort hanging over us I never imagined having to live without my best friend. _

"_I still vividly remember the first time I meet him, it was my first day at Hogwarts and I was lost, confused. I knew so little of the Wizarding World. I didn't have a clue how to get on the platform. I saw this large group of people all with fiery red hair. They showed me how to get on, and one of them was to give the best gift I could ever ask for; friendship. _

"_His family showed me more kindness in a matter of seconds than I had received in all the years with my cousin. Before I met Ron I never had a friend, then I found in Ron – a friend, a brother, a family. Of course that first day I also met Hermione. Though many will remember their constant rowing, they eventually started to go out, he was always talking of her; and I am happy that they eventually did. I had never seen him so happy. They were the perfect couple, the golden couple. Hope you have a restful sleep, we'll join you someday, and then the three of us can be reunited… _

"_I was flicking through the many letters I received from Ron; I would like to read you something…" _

_Hermione couldn't take it anymore; she stood up and walked out of the church. She hated funerals and for someone of her age she'd attended far too many. She felt guilty, Ron was dead because of her… and now she realized she didn't love him. They were just friends. They were so close that her feelings got crossed, what she felt for him wasn't a sexual love but a platonic one. She had wasted the last year of his life. He should have spent it with someone who could return the feeling. She was a fraud. "__I failed him… I__failed everyone."_

_What Hermione didn't realize was that Remus saw her leaving and followed her out, and Harry finished also went to find her. Neither found her. _

_She hid away for days, which melted into weeks. It had taken her time to be able to leave her home, which was when she found out that Harry and Ginny were dating._

* * *

"It's not my fault… it's not my fault… it's not my fault," Hermione whispered to herself, clutching her pillow, as the tears stained her cheek. Before long she had fallen asleep.

Remus called to check up on her when he locked up the shop, but there was no reply. He was worried about her.

* * *

_Hermione is swaying on a swing. It is a large, gnarled plank of drift wood tied to an old yew tree by lengthy braids of hemp. The ancient, leafless tree stands in a large meadow with long golden grass and brightly petaled wild flowers. Along the rope emerald ivy begins to grow. Hermione's long, curly brown hair is flowing in the wind behind her as she kicks higher and higher, she tilts back her head and feels the blood rushing to opposite parts of her brain. _

_A crescent moon emerges from behind the shimmering clouds in the darkening indigo sky. It is getting late so she decides it is time to go home. As soon as she stops swinging she notices the large black dog sitting in front of her. The dog is watching her with his head tilted to the side and his tail wagging happily._

"_Hello there," Hermione greets as she kneels down beside the stray. Her long lacy, deep purple dress puffs out when she sits, covering the ground around her. She begins petting the dog, which barks happily in reply._

"_Want to race?" she asks the dog. _

_The midnight coloured canine stands up and starts bounding around the field. Hermione jumps to her feet and gathers her petticoats in her hands. She chases after the dog laughing. The dog catches up with her, and leaps up his large paws knocking her backwards. Hermione lies there; the soft blades of grass tickle her ears, giggling as the dog licks her face. She tries to push the dog off. His coat shines blue in the moonlight. _

_Eventually Hermione regains control and kneels up. _

_She hears a voice in her head," Hermione help me… please…" _

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Hermione had not thought of Sirius since school, but lately she had discovered he was never far from her thoughts. Something she couldn't comprehend was when ever she did think of him; she'd feel a pang of loneliness. She had never been that close to him, he wasn't her godfather, occasionally she was known to stay up and talk to him, he had been excellent at transfiguration after all. Now, she missed the man. A delayed reaction of ten years had started her constant thinking of him. What was wrong with her? Was she loosing it? Maybe Remus was right, maybe she did need a break.

Remus thought it better not to mention Hermione's recent behaviour. He didn't want to reopen the wounds; although he cared he doubted he was best suited to help her forget, it best to overlook the situation. She obviously wasn't over Ron. What ever he anticipated he didn't expect what she said next.

"Remus," Hermione began quietly, unsure of how or even where she was heading with this conversation. It had been an unusually quiet day at the shop, all the stock had been counted and she had glanced through the finance books.

"Yes Hermione," he answered distracted. He grinned triumphantly to himself as he filled in 8 across on The Daily Prophet's _'Cunningly Cute Cryptic Crossword'_.

"Do you… em… Miss Sirius?" she asked cautiously.

"What?" he replied, alarmed. He expected the question to be in relation to the shop.

"Do you-"

"No I heard the question, what did you mean by it?"

"It's just… I've been thinking about him a lot lately. I'm not sure why… I was just curious."

"Of course I miss him Hermione," he began sadly; "he was by best friend. The four of us where like brothers, myself, Sirius, James and even Peter." Whose name he said in resigned sadness, he continued with a far off look in his eyes. "We were like you, Harry and Ro-" he stopped suddenly aware of his blunder.

"You can say their names Remus." In all the years she had known Remus, she had never found the courage to ask how much Peter's betrayal had hurt him. She long suspected it was an even greater betrayal than what Sirius had felt.

"Sorry- but yes I still miss him, I miss them all."

"I miss him too," she said quietly.

"Really?" he said sounding more surprised than he'd meant.

"You sound positively shocked, can I not miss him?"

"No you can… it's just you never seemed particularly close."

"You don't need to be attached at the hip to miss someone," she snapped.

"Yes, yes that's true. Of course you're right, sorry." Remus returned to his crossword no longer able to fully concentrate. He always found it difficult to talk about Sirius.

The silence, reigning once again, was broken when Hermione began talking quietly and incoherently, "what… em… what if he never… actually… eh… never died…" Hermione already regretted the words as she heard them flowing out. She was not oblivious to how Remus' face dropped and his eyes close in silent prayer.

Remus sighed deeply, "Hermione you can't live your life on 'what ifs'. If you do you'll never get over anything."

Hermione just couldn't prevent the words spewing forth, "but there was no body." Once they were out they seemed to hang in the air with a life of their own, dampening the already unstable atmosphere.

"Hermione, stop it."

"Maybe he isn't dead."

"Let it go," he replied getting increasingly irritated.

"But-"

"Sop. It. Now. He's dead, please, let it go. It has been ten years. Why drag it up, drop it," he begged her.

She couldn't, "but… but what if he's just stuck behind the veil, lost- not dead but not living either, sort of frozen."

"Hermione please – it's finished"

"No but…"

"This conversation is over. It is not as if you got along with him or even liked him," Remus said heatedly.

Hermione recoiled like she'd been slapped; perhaps she went a bit far but there was no needed to say she didn't care. Hermione had tried so hard for Harry's sake to find someway of recovering Sirius, especially after she found a small box of trinkets hidden in a wardrobe at Grimmauld Place. She had given the box to Remus but for some reason she kept the snapshot of a seventeen year old Sirius. She told herself it was incentive, to encourage her to find the solution. She had taken out the photograph of Sirius so many times during sixth year that it bordered on obsession. Eventually she had no choice but to give in. She had exams and a war to worry about – she had read everything about The Veil she could land her hands on, but there was no answer. She put away the picture and tried to forget it. Even now, she knew exactly in which book and where on the bookshelf the photo was kept. She cared, possibly more than she realised.

"How the hell would you know how I feel? And anyway, I was right about the James thing; I only said it to be a good friend."

Remus found it very difficult to rein in his anger. There was a full moon soon and his wolfish side was aching for a spar. "Well something's should never be said."

"Oh I'm not a good friend now… what on earth was that suppose to mean?"

"Maybe he'd never have…"

"Have what?" Hermione interrupted slamming shut her book.

"Have gone to the ministry that night."

"He knew." She felt sick, her stomach was twisting. How had he found out, had someone told him?

"Yes."

"How?"

"I am not sure, but he felt guilty about it and wanted to prove to Harry that he cared."

"No-one ever doubted it," she said softly trying to overlook the dull ache in her throat.

"I know, but Sirius well… he rushed in without thinking. He thought with his heart not his head."

"Oh Merlin… what did I do?"

"Nothing," Remus whispered.

Hermione paled, "I have to get away," she said it more to herself. "Remus there's a book I have to pick up in Yorkshire, I was going to apparate – but maybe your right, I should take a break. Will you look after the shop for a week?"

"I can't"

"Why not?"

"There's a full moon on Thursday."

Her mind was a muddle, had Sirius heard her? "I'll get someone to cover for you on the weekend – can you work the rest?"

"Yes"

"Ok, I'd better go; I'll see you next week." Hermione left still in shock. _'How did he find out?' _

* * *

"KEVIN!" yelled Hermione as soon as she got home. The conversation with Remus still hadn't sunken in, in its entirety.

"You shrieked," Kevin replied grinning.

"I need a favour from you," she started sweetly.

"What is it Honey?"

"I have to go away for a week, could you look after the shop on Thursday to Saturday?" inquired Hermione as she twisted a lose lock of Kevin's hair around her finger.

Kevin stalled her hand. "What about Remus?" he asked.

"I already said he could have the time off"

"Herm sweetheart I think he's taking advantage of your kindness – he's always taking time off.

"And you know perfectly well why." She hated it when he called her Herm."Can you do it for me, please?"

"I have plans though"

"Please…" she asked pouting.

"Fine," he replied laughing.

"Right I'm leaving in the morning; I'm not sure if I'll be back before you leave – but if I don't see you, have fun!!"

"Why? Where are you going now?"

"To have a long relaxing soak in the bath, unless you care to join me," she said with a mischievous grin.

Her boyfriend looked between the front door and Hermione, contemplating his decision.

* * *

Hermione borrowed her mother's car. She figured she'd spent that ridiculous amount on insurance she may as well get some use of it. She drove the long distance from London to Yorkshire. It gave her time to be by herself, time to sort out her head. Remus as always was right; she couldn't live on 'what ifs'. She'd turn over a new leaf – a clean slate – no regrets – no blaming – a new beginning. She picked up the book, it was on Celtic Shamans and Druids, and a customer has been looking for it. She was on her way home. This time alone had given her some perspective. Her policy she had tried to adopt, _live life to the best, you don't know how long it is_, was correct, and now she was going to do it to the best of her ability. Starting with finding Harry when she returned to London, if she missed him, surely he missed her too.

"Why throw away fourteen years of friendship," she said out loud.

'Where the hell am I,'she thought as she turned down another country road. _'_I knew I shouldn't have taken that right turn, an hour ago!!'

Instead of turning back she continued along the country road, there would be a town soon or at least a house – right? She looked at the petrol gage; she still had a good bit left, and was hoping she wouldn't run out. The further she appeared to be going from York, the mistier it became. She hardly noticed the steam coming out from beneath the bonnet.

"Bugger," she exclaimed as she stopped the car. The blue metal was really hot so she used her wand to open it; she knew nothing about cars but if she had to guess, she would say it was the radiator.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap," she screamed kicking the front tyre and stubbing her front toe.

Hermione slumped down to the damp ground leaning against the tyre. She started to laugh; there was nothing else she could do. She began laughing hysterically her eyes were watering and she couldn't help thinking _'thank Merlin I cut my hair, with all this mist…' _This only caused her to giggle harder. As she expressed her amusement she could feel the stress, strain, anguish flow out if her.

After trying to compose herself for a few moments she stood up to see where exactly she was. There was a small wooden signpost pointing up a dirt track. The post looked like it was decomposing and the letters written in white paint were hard to make out, it looked like _'Avery Farm'._ Wrapping her Muggle coat tightly around her she sprinted up the lane until she reached an old white washed cottage. Hermione knocked on the door, a woman in her late sixties with grey hair answered.

"Hello," she addressed Hermione.

"Hello, I was wondering if I could use you phone. Only my car has broken down and I can't fix it."

"Oh you poor dear, come inside. My husband should be returning soon. I'll have him take a look at it for you."

"Thank you very much," Hermione replied walking into the cottage.

"Now you look soaked, have a seat by the fire while I get you some towels."

The woman returned handing Hermione the towels and a cup of tea.

"Thanks," said Hermione gratefully drinking the warm liquid.

"My name is Catherine, what is yours dear?"

"Hermione," she responded.

"What a lovely name. Hermione, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh I couldn't intrude"

"Not a bother. Sure Charles won't look at the car till he's had his fill, you may as well join us," Catherine said kindly.

"Thank you that would be lovely. It's very kind of you," replied Hermione gratefully.

Not long after a sound at the back door altered Hermione to the others arrival.

"That'll be the boys now," Catherine said, "I expect they'll have a fierce appetite." Hermione smiled. "Follow me Hermione while I introduce you to them."

In the kitchen stood three tall men, the eldest Hermione assumed to be Charles. Beside him was a man in his early forties, light brown hair and squinty green eyes; he was introduced as Mark, her only son.

"– And this is Heathcliff," said Catherine indicating to a man in his thirties, he had medium length black hair that hung into his dark, grey eyes. He was tall and very attractive.

Hermione paused, she took a small step forward to gain a closer look at him she had to grab a chair for support and her other one shot up to her mouth, _'Sirius?' _

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Hermione blinked and looked at the man standing before her, "Sirius?" she whispered.

Catherine placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, causing her to jump, "are you alright dear – you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I fine – yes… thanks." Was she really loosing it now, Heathcliff couldn't be Sirius; if he was surely he'd have contacted Harry. "Unless he doesn't remember…"

"Hermione are you sure you're all right, you're all pale. Maybe you should sit down." Catherine led the visibly shaken up Hermione to a seat, "I know he's very attractive but never thought I'd see someone actually faint over him," Catherine said winking.

Hermione smiled and stared at the flickering flames, dancing in the hearth. "Get a grip girl." When she raised her head, everyone excepting Catherine had left.

"Where did Heathcliff come from?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Charles found him wondering the woods near the river," replied Catherine.

"So you don't know where he came from."

"No – there was talk in town about sightings of bright light about a year ago and a man aimlessly wandering around, not much later my dear husband found him."

"Isn't from the area," Hermione mumbled to herself.

Catherine thought she was asking another question so replied, "oh no dear, poor man doesn't remember a thing. Hardly speaks."

"Heathcliff isn't his name," Hermione said, trying to veil the anticipation in her voice.

"Oh no, well it might be, but he doesn't appear to remember it. My husband gave him the name, called him after a character in my favourite book. Are you sure your all right, you look frightened," asked Catherine sweetly.

Hermione wasn't listening the cogs in her brain were going into action, "does he ever talk about anyone or anything?"

"Actually yes – the first couple of weeks he was here, he would talk in his sleep to someone called 'Minnie' and a 'Barry', but when we questioned him about it he always had a blank expression. I felt sorry for him, so I offered him a place to stay until he remembers. He works out on the farm with Charles and Mark. Other than that he pretty much keeps to himself.

"He eats his meals with you though?"

"No, we always have a place set for him just in case, but he either eats it standing in the kitchen, or he takes it up to his room. Sneaks silently down at night to clean his dishes. You'd hardly notice he was even in the house."

"Remembers nothing?" questioned Hermione.

"Not even his age," replied Catherine.

"Thirty-six," mumbled Hermione, 'ten years dead, one alive – thirty-five plus one thirty-six. Oh Merlin…'

"Sorry dear?"

"Where does he sleep?"

"In the room at the back of the house, I offered another one but he seems content to be where he is. It's a small, dark room – coldest in the house."

'_It's him, he's alive; Sirius Black is alive' _Hermione jumped up smiling insanely, "would you mind if I went to speak to him?"

"No go right ahead, here, it's some soup. Would you mind bringing it up to him?"

"I'd be delighted to," Hermione responded taking the tray out of the woman's charge.

* * *

Hermione approached the door to his room; she rapped softly on the wood awaiting him to answer. There was none, so she allowed herself in.

"Heathcliff," she cooed softly. Turning she noticed a body slumped in the corner with its head concealed in his hands. She quickly put down the tray she was carrying and approached the man cautiously. Knelling down beside him she placed her hand gently on his forearm.

"Sirius," she whispered to the head hidden under black locks.

The man looked up, his dark eyes widened for a moment; a look of recognition crossed them.

"Sirius – I'm Hermione, do you remember me?" she questioned clearly.

The man looked at her, the name sounded familiar – he could picture a young girl; fourteen maybe fifteen, lots of hair. This girl however was older, much older - her hair was very short. He resumed looking at his hands, they were rough from all the manual labour he had done since he'd arrived here. How long had it been, a month, a year? Had he always lived here? The young person was asking him questions again. Why? Did she think he didn't spend every night trying to figure out who he was?

Hermione bit her lip in concentration and continued, "what about Harry?"

No movement,

"Remus?"

Nothing.

'Ok Hermione, it's definitely him. Think Hermione think…what might jog a memory only need one – Moony? Prongs? Marauders? His mother? She's quite unforgettable"

Hermione inhaled deeply before muttering her next words, "Grimmauld Place?" the body in front of her involuntarily shuddered. She made a mental note to keep off that topic.

She looked at him kindly, "Heathcliff," he looked up, "does Moony, Prongs, Padfoot or Wormtail mean anything to you?"

'Prongs' he knew that name, thinking really hard trying to picture it, an animal of some kind… no… glasses, Prongs wore glasses… a name… Sammie… Jamie… James.

"James," his voice cracked from lack of use.

Hermione smiled, "yes that's right – James, can you tell me about him?"

"No"

Her face fell. "At least it's a start."

Sirius began mumbling again, she couldn't hear what he was saying just odd words, 'glasses', 'messy', 'black'.

Her smile grew again as she threw her arms around his neck, "oh Sirius; your alive," she exclaimed, her eyes watering.

Catherine stood in the doorway. She arrived just to see the young girl who asked a lot of questions, throw her herself at Heathcliff; she looked as though she were crying.

"Hermione?"

The young girl looked up blushing, she didn't notice Catherine standing there, "hello," she wasn't bothering to mask her excitement.

* * *

"And you say you know him," Charles asked suspiciously.

"Yes," she replied irritated. _'How many times must I say this?'_

"So if you know him, why not come looking for him before?"

"You see… eh…" _'How to phrase this,' _"well… he's been missing for years… we thought he was dead."

The three members of the family; Charles, Catherine and Mark, looked at her disbelieving.

"Can you prove it?" John asked.

"Surely if Sirius… Heathcliff wants to come home with me you can't stop him."

Hermione dear, it's not that we don't believe you. Its just he's a very good, strong worker. We are very attached to him; we only want what's best for him."

"Coming with me is that."

"I'm not so sure, from our conversation earlier you sound like you have trouble looking after yourself," added Catherine.

Hermione's jaw dropped in disbelief, a righteous anger bubble inside her. "Look, I can take him home to his family and friends – what could possibly be better for him," she replied through her teeth, holding in the urge to shout after the last comment.

"Yes but-"

"Wait I do have proof," she shrieked as she rushed out of the little white wash cottage towards her car. Grabbing her bag she rummaged through it. There was a photograph in here somewhere, she'd found a pile of them in her old room. So far all she'd found were wizard.

"Aha! Muggle," she cried triumphantly. It was not the best but it would do.

Charles looked at the picture sceptically handing it to his wife, he commented, "this looks like it was taken about ten years ago – it can't be him, look you are what fourteen maybe fifteen in it."

'Sixteen,' she thought, 'come on Hermione you're smart, think of something.'

"It's my sister," she blurted out, "people are always saying we look very alike, her name is Penelope. That is Sirius however. It was taken a few years before he vanished."

Catherine looked towards her son, and then her husband, how would Jane react? She was very fond of Heathcliff. "What about Jane dear?"

"Who's Jane," inquired Hermione.

"Our daughter," replied Charles, turning to his wife taking her hand he continued, "I'm afraid, if Heathcliff wishes to leave we can do very little to prevent him."

* * *

There was a loud knock at Hermione's front door, she was quietly thankful Kevin was away on business in Spain. She didn't think he would understand.

"Remus," she screamed excitedly, "have you got the albums?"

"Yes, why did you need them so urgently anyway?"

"You'll see."

Remus stood back, although she had only been gone a week, it had made a lot o f difference. She was looking much better, "Hermione I don't think I've seen you looking so perky since you were made Head Girl."

Hermione looked momentarily glum, before embracing Remus in a giant hug, "I'm so sorry for being such an insufferable git. You deserve an award for putting up with me."

Remus looked at her again, she really was much better, grinning he replied, "Now, this thing you want to show me"

"Yes… come in… come in," she squealed spiritedly. Remus crossed over into her apartment. "Now I must warn you, he's not the same but…"  
Remus looked at her like she was crazy, "what are you rambling about Hermione."

There was a light in Hermione's eyes that seemed to have ignited again; it had been extinguished for so long. It was the look she got before she embarked on some crazy amount of research, or when she knew the answer to a question before you had even asked it.

"Heathcliff," she yelled.

There was the sound of a body approaching, their shoes made a squeak as they walked. Remus' mouth dropped in disbelief, "Remus – Heathcliff, Heathcliff – Remus."

'Padfoot?'

"I found him Remus, he's alive." Remus looked dumbfounded; he was unsure how to react. His only instinct was to bring Hermione into a bear hug and twirl her around.

"Remus stop messing and go talk to him," she smiled. _'Now to find Harry.'_

Hermione wasn't sure where she could find him. As soon as she arrived home from Yorkshire, she had immediately sent an owl to the Weasley's. She hadn't thought how they might react; she didn't think at all, all she knew was she had to find Harry, quickly.

The message only said that she needed to speak to Harry urgently and did they know where he might be. Just prior to Remus' knock she had heard a familiar tapping at her bedroom window. It was Pig, she opened the window to retrieve the reply, but all it said was they had no idea where he was and that it was nice to hear from her again. Hermione hadn't really spoken to Harry in a year and there was only one place she could think of, and that was as good as any to start. Hermione apparated into Hogsmeade and walked the familiar route to Hogwarts, holding a single white lily. She prayed that he was here, when they were at Hogwarts the three of them had a knack of always knowing where the other was. _'Perhaps that was because of the map'_ she grinned to herself thinking of some of the nightly activities they had part taken in.

As she approached the lake, she saw the silhouette of a young man leaning against a yew tree. Hermione moved towards the man, slipping her arm in his, linking with him. She softly greeted him, "hello Harry," before resting her heavy head against his shoulder.

She looked down to where Harry was gazing. She stood forward, leaning down she placed the flower on a limestone monument. Engraved onto it was the constellation of the Dog Star – Sirius. Under which was written, _'Fate brought us together, Chance took us apart – In Memory of Sirius Black.'_

Hermione spoke softly not looking at Harry, "He's alive Harry, Sirius Black is back."

* * *


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Hermione continued to stare at her feet. She knew Harry had moved away from her, she could feel the nippy breeze inhabiting the once warm area where Harry's arm had been. She noticed the grass had grown longer around the monument and the occasional wild flower had braved the autumn wind one final time. Glancing again at the limestone monument, she saw that visitors hadn't become strangers to it. Although the edges had become worn from the bitter winters and frosty mornings the remains of tributes still dotted the surrounding glassy grass. As the young girl looked intently at the fading yellows and reds of the dying flowers, she felt a pang of guilt in her stomach, ever since Ron's untimely death she had avoided this spot like the plague. They had spent many days in seventh year here with Harry but when the chapter in her life with Ron ended so did this part.

Hermione knelt down to retrieve a card that seemed to have withstood the elements, it was signed Leonard Coaker. People who didn't know Sirius had sent more flowers than her. Hermione pondered what she had done. She realized, she had barely rested let alone thought since returning to London and absorbing her surroundings she become conscious of the fact it wasn't exactly the most appropriate location to tell someone their godfather wasn't dead. She took one final glance at the monument and smirked,_ 'chance took us apart' _that should be etched away and replaced with _'chance reunited us.' _

The young woman, standing uncomfortably aware of the looks she was receiving, braved a glance in Harry's direction; the tall, thin man of twenty-four still in ownership of the most unruly hair she'd ever seen stood there, his emerald green eyes burning into her. They were in possession of a shine only available from the retention of tears.

"Harry!?" she chanced.

"It can't be true," he mumbled to himself.

"Harry," she tried again.

"No, he would have found me… can it be true? … No…" he continued to mutter in argument with himself. He was in two minds about it. Part of him wanted to believe it, wanted to run to the girl he used to be so close to and bring her into a hug, forget about everything that had happened; but his logical side, the side he used in battle, the colder side of Harry refused to believe her words. The words that stung him, they couldn't possible be true. Who was this… this person… this creature standing before him, the Hermione he knew would never play such a cruel, unsympathetic hoax.

"It's true Harry," she spoke clearly, tears reappearing in her large coffee shade eyes."Harry you have to believe me."

He turned away taking two steps; his hand went involuntarily through his hair as he stood there with his back to Hermione. She approached him cautiously, gently placing her tiny-gloved hand on his right shoulder. "Harry I can show you."

He spun around to meet her face; he looked deep inside her shimmering eyes. His eyes were darting across her face; searching within her for the answer he was seeking. He knew she wasn't lying. A solitary tear trickled down the lonely hero's, wind raw cheek.

"I've missed you so much Hermione," he whispered.

"Oh Harry I've missed you too."

The two old friends stood under the shade of the leafless tree embracing one another, the only movement from the shaking shoulders of a man who thought he'd lost everything. The wind blew his hair about their joined faces.

Pulling away Hermione wiped away the tears streaming down her icy cheeks. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry," she said laughing.

She inhaled deeply the cold air, that hurt her lungs, before speaking again, "come on Harry let's go to The Three Broomsticks. We've a lot to talk about."

"Madam Rosmerta does make the best butterbeer."

"Last one there is as greasy as Snape," they both yelled in unison smirking at the memory of the absent member of their trio.

"Come on then, if I stand here any longer I fear I'll become a permanent feature… it's freezing," Hermione said, her teeth chattering. Taking Harry's arm, they walked the short distance to Hogsmeade.

* * *

"You take a seat, I'll get the drinks," Harry offered as Hermione removed her scarf to reveal her rosy cheeks and red raw nose. Sitting at their old table she spied a few dark robes hidden in the corner. The four Hogwart's students, three boys and a girl, who evidently should not have been there were whispering frantically oblivious to their surroundings. Hermione smiled and not for the first time wished she could return to those days at Hogwarts.

"Hello Mr. Potter," greeted the bar man.

"Is Rosmerta not here today," inquired Harry.

"No, she's off shopping in Diagon Alley; it's grand for some eh? Now what can I get you Harry?"

"Two butterbeers, warm, thanks Bilius," replied Harry glancing around the lounge of 'The Three Broomsticks'. "Fun crowd you have here tonight." There was an old woman clad in deep terracotta coloured robes smoking in the corner and then there was the man in tattered robes, his hair flecked with silver slouched against the counter with his head over his drink.

Bilius smiled in reply, "I'll drop them over to you."

"Thanks."

"So," Harry said awkwardly as he sat down at the table, across from Hermione.

"So…" replied Hermione, "where do we begin?"

"We can start by you telling me how you've been," Harry said with a hint of humour in his voice.

Hermione grinned, "ah you know me, fine really. I opened a bookshop but you knew that. It's nice, small, and annoyingly quiet at times but its mine. I think that's what I like the most it's somewhere I can be myself, no matter how I feel. That of course is unfortunate for Remus who has been the brunt of my mood swings on a number of occasions."

Harry chuckled in response, "god do I remember."

"Hey… now Mr. Potter you should be careful, I might just walk out that door again," she joked, "and anyway I wasn't that bad."

Harry snorted.

"I wasn't," replied Hermione feigning offence, she tossed the beer mat on the table at Harry's head in a playful manner. Bilius, the barman, chose that precise moment to arrive with the drinks, his effort being awarded by cardboard in the face. Hermione's eyes widened, "I'm so sorry."

"Bilius, you'll have to excuse my friend here, she's always had an atrocious aim."

"Humph!" Hermione crossed her arms.

Bilius shook his head returning to the counter where he proceeded to dry glasses with a cloth. He could have used magic, but he had nothing else to do. He'd already wiped the wooden counter ten times in the last five minutes.

"My aim isn't that bad, I didn't hear you complain when I taught you curses and charms in school, need I remind you it helped in your N.E.W.T.S. and another thing I didn't have that many mood swings at Hogwarts."

"Come on, you have that memory of yours altered."

"Ha!"

"Remember third year?"

"Need you remind me," she said coolly. "But if I remember correctly you weren't exactly Mr. Happy all the time either and anyway I was right."

"Of course."

"Shut up… and stop laughing at me." She smirked.

"Like old times."

"Sure is."

"So how's Remus? I haven't seen him in a while; I've been real busy lately."

"He's fine. He's a great help at the shop and a great friend too, very grounded. I hear you and Ginny are getting married – congratulations."

A large grin crept across Harry's face and his eyes twinkled joyously, "oh, she's just great. I don't remember ever feeling like this with someone. I know I liked Cho Chang a lot but nothing compared to how it is with Ginny. With her there are no doubts – it feels like for once everything is going to be ok. I'm sorry… I know I'm going on but it's so hard to explain."

"Harry you never have to explain that… I'm very happy for you both," replied Hermione ignoring the jealous feeling she had. "So do you ever see anyone from Hogwarts at the Ministry?"

"Yeah," answered Harry, "Neville is a herbologist, I think he secretly wants to teach it at Hogwarts," Harry winked, "Seamas and Dean are there too. Dean's an Auror, although I'm not sure what Seamas does."

The young girl glanced around the small dimly lit lounge reminiscently, "I really miss being here… I know we weren't exactly carefree teenagers but didn't Hogwarts always feel safe. Have you been in the castle recently?"

Harry nodded.

"Has it changed at all?"

"No, same old Hogwarts with mostly the same professors too. Flitwick and Daniels, he thought Muggle Studies retired, other than that the same. Are you saying that you never went back?"

"Never… Haven't been there since graduation."

"Really!? … Always imagined you there, like the furniture in the library."

"Thanks," she replied wryly.

"Ok that came out wrong."

"I should hope so," she chuckled, her face dimmed slightly before continuing, "so… Snape's still there then."

"Yup and as slimy as ever."

Hermione rolled her eyes and lifted her rapidly cooling butterbeer to her lips.

"That's not your reasoning for avoiding the place is it?"

Hermione shook her head from side to side, "Well I suppose it's partly it. I'm still embarrassed about exploding at him like that, but in my defence Snape should not have said anything." She began absentmindedly playing with a beer mat. "Other things too though, time just went by, things happened and before I knew it I'm here seven years after we graduated."

"Exactly Hermione it's been seven years – I'm sure he has forgotten."

The girl snorted, "Ha! … Harry this is Snape we're taking about. You do remember how much that man despised Sirius right… he can't let the past go." She caught her companions' eye, "and yes I am aware this is completely different. I'd just rather not see him."

"Now we've got the formalities out of the way." Harry saw Hermione's frown. "I think you have some explaining to do."

"Well we might need more drinks and I think something stronger this time." Hermione stood up and went to the bar, when she returned she was holding two glasses containing an amber coloured substance. She took her seat again and began to recite to Harry everything she knew, "… and now Remus is there with him, I had to tell you. You understand right, he isn't exactly the same."

Harry responded gravely, "yes I do… and thanks for telling me, probably not the easiest thing."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Do you want to meet him," she asked with care.

"I don't know if I'm ready yet." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up. "I'd finally accepted he was gone… it's all a bit much."

"If you're not ready then you don't have to." Hermione reached across and placed a hand on his. "Well we could apparate to my apartment, Remus should still be there. This is entirely up to you, when you're ready."

Harry toasted his glass. "Dutch courage."

* * *

The two bodies appeared in a shadowy alleyway near to where Hermione lived, "There's an anti-apparating spell on the apartment. It's also Muggle."

Harry moved his head in comprehension. They stopped at her door.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

Harry answered quietly, blinking back tears, "no, but I have to do this," he stammered.

"Ok let's go in," taking Harry's hand and squeezing it tightly for encouragement, they crossed the doorsill.

Stopping outside the entrance to the living room, she turned to face her best friend, "Harry you must understand he doesn't quite comprehend what he's been told, for the last year he has been called Heathcliff. I think it would be best if we also continue to call him that until he feels more comfortable… ok?"

Harry just looked at her; his silence answered the question.

"Just one more thing Harry, if… if he does not remember your name don't take it personal. We have no idea what he's been through."

Gripping his hand tighter she led Harry into the small room where Remus was seated, explaining to Sirius from first to last, every photograph in the album. Remus' face was masking what ever emotion he was currently feeling; he was suddenly looking old though.

"Heathcliff," Hermione managed to say as happily as possible. Sirius looked up. "I'm back, are you hungry?"

He shook his head 'no.'

"Alright, but if you want something don't be afraid to ask me… Heathcliff this is…" she indicated towards Harry but was cut off.

"Harry," said Sirius softly. Hermione smiled briefly before realizing that he was holding a photograph of Harry. Remus had placed charms on all the single headshots of people, in order to help Sirius remember their names. Her stomach plummeted; she could only imagine how Harry must be feeling right now. She swallowed, "that's right," she tried to say brightly, turning to Harry she whispered, "are you ok?"

His face was pale and his eyes were red but replied stiffly, "yes."

"Remus," said Hermione, Remus' head shot up, "I was hoping you could help me in the kitchen, you and Harry must be starving… I know I am."

Remus took the hint and followed Hermione out of the room shutting the door silently behind them. Once safely in the kitchen Hermione could halt the pleasant act.

"Well?" she asked.

"I don't know… doesn't remember much, mind you he isn't saying much either," replied Remus.

"This is so frustrating," groaned Hermione, "I didn't expect it to be easy, but we have very little to work with."

"I think he may know more than he's letting on."

"You think," she asked brightly.

"I hope."

"Merlin, I hope your right Remus. This is going to be tough on everyone, especially you and Harry."

"What do you think we should do next?" asked a very bothered Remus.

"I think we should talk to Dumbledore and soon," said an exasperated Hermione.

"She's right," came a dejected voice behind Hermione, it was Harry.

"Where's Heat… Sirius?" she asked worried.

"Bathroom," his voice crocked.

"So," added Remus, "we're agreed, we go talk to Dumbledore.

"Yes," Harry and Hermione together.

"When?"

"Tomorrow," Harry said eyeing the bottle of vodka on top of the fridge.

"I'll go owl Dumbledore then," said Remus.

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep that night; Remus and he had spent the night at Hermione's small London flat. They had come to the conclusion that it would be best if they all stayed together. Remus had promptly received an answer from Dumbledore, he would meet them at twelve o'clock the following day, and they were invited to stay for lunch. Remus had neglected to mention however the exact reasoning behind their visit.

Harry rolled over on the sofa he was sleeping on. His tossing and turning mixed with the constant mumbling and shuffling had prevented Remus, on the inflatable bed, from sleeping as well. Hermione's apartment was small; it had two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen and a sitting room. She wasn't the world's neatest person either. For a person whose work was presented perfectly and person was always neat, it came as a surprise to view her flat. She was obviously busy at times and although her home was clean it was messy. Piles of books dotted the apartment, trailed along the hallway; parchment half torn, half scribbled on covered the kitchen table. She had quills in the cutlery drawer beside the forks and for some odd reason a saucepan had made its way to the bulging bookshelf in the sitting room. Remus figured she was probably about to cook when a book caught her eye, then the pan lay forgotten under piles of notes. He was thinking that it wouldn't surprise him; sometimes she was a bit scatty. In the hallway as you entered the apartment was a mahogany whatnot which was used to carry the house keys and hold various other trinkets; there was also a fading, yellowing photograph of her great-grand parents, and her mother sitting between them when she was just six years old. Her bathroom was painted white and had Muggle black and white photographs placed in a sequence along the walls. Hermione didn't want the wizard ones in there as she didn't like the moving pictures in a room that you showered in; she instead had the moving pictures in the hallway to greet the visitors to the house. To look at the dwelling you wouldn't believe another person lived there with her, her items had marked the area as her territory, the only evidence of her boyfriend could be seen in the bedroom and the odd folder of documents he needed for work.

"Harry," whispered Remus.

"Yeah," he whispered back.

"I'm going to the kitchen to make breakfast, do you want some?"

"I'll come help, I can't sleep anyway."

"I know," mumbled Remus bitterly walking to the kitchen.

"Bugger," muttered Remus, holding the lid of a coffee maker in one hand and spilling coffee grinds on to the vinyl counter top.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry innocently, trying and failing to hide his smirk.

"She has one of these weird Muggle coffee makers… I thought they all used those pushy down ones… you know they have a piece you press down… like this," Remus continued to mime out the actions involved in pushing down the plunger attachment.

"Here," laughed Harry, "it's a proper one, the Dursley's used to make me do this. It's pretty simple. Look you fill this part with water up to the marker," he said holding up the metal base, "this sieve type piece slips into the base, like this, you put the grinds in here… twist on the lid… place on cooker and hey presto in five whole minutes you have coffee."

"It not that funny you know," Remus said grinning.

"Ah it is… now do you know how to work the toaster?"

Remus raised his eyebrows, "a what?"

"Didn't do Muggle studies then?"

"No… there were much more important subjects than ones where you learnt about the Muggle Owling System."

"God you sounded just like Hermione there, and it's the postal system."

"Huh!"

Harry shook his head, "Never mind, you just sit down I'll make the breakfast.

Hermione appeared in the kitchen around an hour later and plopped down in the seat next to Harry, grabbing his toast she took a bite, "mmmm! Rashers," she said groggily, "I didn't even realize I had any."

Harry and Remus looked at each other and pushed their plates of rashers away from them.

"Coffee?" Hermione asked.

Harry pointed to the counter, "you didn't have to use that there's a plunger one under the sink." Remus smirked triumphantly in Harry's direction.

Hermione stretched then poured herself a cup of black coffee; cupping it in her hands she smelt its strong aroma before taking a sip of the warm black substance. She took a moment to enjoy the taste before speaking again, "Sirius not up yet? I'll go wake him… you two are welcome to use the shower, the bathroom is the first door on the right as you come into the flat. There are clean towels in the cupboard under the sink. Oh and Harry show Remus how to work the Muggle shower, unless he already knows." With that she promptly left the kitchen.

The two men were momentarily silent.

"So how is she… really?" Harry questioned.

"A good actor," Remus commented.

"Thought so… what's she been like lately?"

"Up and down… but I must say that since Sirius arrived she is looking the best I've seen her in years."

"I was afraid of that."

"Why?" Remus stopped buttering his toast.

"She was trying to prepare me to meet him, and I really appreciate but I think she might… I'm afraid she might get hurt."

"You may be right; she was talking about him a week ago. She said she couldn't stop thinking about him… I'm afraid he's going to become her new Ron…" said Remus.

"Ron?"

"She was acting funny in the shop the other week, I'm sure she still thinks it's her fault."

Harry out down his mug. "But it isn't."

"I know, she thinks it is though, she also thinks… you do too," Remus continued delicately.

"That's stupid… of course I don't…" Harry almost yelled, his voice softened as he continued, "but it would help to explain why we haven't spoken in ages… it was seven years ago, don't get me wrong I really do miss him, he was my best friend but I had to move on."

"She hasn't well hadn't, now I'm scared she'll put all her time and energy into Sirius and if the worst happens…"

"She'll be worse than before," Harry finished.

Remus nodded.

"I think, I might go have that shower," Harry went to leave but turned at the door, "Remus, at least I'm here now, better late than never eh? I can hopefully help her."

* * *

Hermione rapped gently on the door to the guest bedroom. There was no reply so she knocked again. She heard the shifting of weight on the bed and the carpet muffled the sound of two feet hitting the ground. Sirius opened the door, he was standing only in trousers that were hastily pulled on and unzipped.

"Eh… em," Hermione coughed to clear her throat, "can I come in?"

The topless man nodded and stood away from the door, he pulled on a jumper. That reminded her, she best make Harry and Remus take Sirius to get some clothes and she had better get more food. Hermione sat down on the cushiony bed and motioned for him to sit next to her. He obediently responded.

"Heathcliff, we're going on a trip today. Harry, Remus and I are going to meet an old friend. We were wondering if perhaps you would like to come, our friend would love to see you."

"Will you be there," he asked quietly.

"Yes… so will you come?"

Sirius nodded.

Hermione smiled, "do you want some breakfast? I can bring it in here… maybe we could just talk for awhile. You could tell me all about Catherine and Charles and that daughter of theirs," she mocked, Sirius grinned at the mention of their daughter, Hermione's stomach flipped. _'Those rashers must have been off.' _

* * *

The clock was slowly edging towards twelve. At eleven Harry, Remus and Hermione could be found seated in the kitchen, with more coffee, discussing the best way to get to Hogwarts.

"Well we can't apparate anyway," said Hermione playing with a teaspoon.

"Why not?"

Hermione gave Harry a look that would have made McGonagall proud, "Harry don't you remember anything – _Hogwarts a History_ – you can't apparate into Hogwarts grounds, also Sirius doesn't remember any magic, just yet, so apparating is out of the question. Sometimes I wonder."

"I meant apparating to Hogsmeade, anyway we could side-a-long."

Remus smiled, "How about the Knights Bus."

"I don't know," added Hermione, "I'm not so sure it would be wise to let people see him… just yet anyway."

"She has a point Remus," contributed Harry, "unless we disguise him or use the invisibility cloak."

"Harry you're the auror, what do you think is best?" said Hermione.

"Me…eh… we could chance the invisibility cloak or we give him one that ensures to cover his face completely.

"are you sure you're not just being over cautious? It has been years since he was cleared and even if it wasn't, he doesn't look 45," argued Remus.

Hermione looked up. "Yes, but he is also suppose to be dead."

* * *

Four bodies descended the steps of a purple triple-decker bus, in the small Wizarding town of Hogsmeade. The tallest of the company, a young man with almost black hair and thick-rimmed glasses waved goodbye to the driver. As soon as the bus was gone the fourth member, whose outline appeared to shimmer and was hard to focus on, lowered his hood. This new man had been placed under a weak disillusionment charm for extra precaution. The small group began to slowly walk away from the main village and head towards the towering castle in the distance.

Harry and Remus walked ahead and were followed by the very silent Sirius and Hermione. The nearer she got to the castle the more her stomach jumped around. She seriously doubted her ability to walk into the castle. As much as she missed going to school at Hogwarts she was incredibly nervous about returning. When the company stopped outside the huge entrance to the ancient soaring building she found her self rooted to the spot.

"You go on ahead," she called to the others.

"Hermione what's wrong," Harry questioned.

"I don't think I'm ready to go in yet… I'll follow you… go on."

"Ok… if you're sure you are all right."

"I'm fine," she breathed deeply.

Sirius turned to face her; he slowly extended his hand out and caressed her cheek with his thumb. For a moment Hermione could have sworn she saw a gleam of the old Sirius in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Heathcliff, I'm ok… you go with them."

Sirius shook his head and followed her down the granite steps. She turned and pleaded with him to go with Harry and Remus, "please… for me." She wasn't sure it would work, but she had to try. The most important thing was for Dumbledore to see Sirius.

"I promise I'm fine," she said again. Sirius looked at her for a moment, turned and briskly ran up to the other two. Hermione sat down under an oak tree and rested her head against its wide trunk ignoring the moist grass beneath her. She hardly noticed that her heart was racing.

* * *


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

In the cluttered office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat an aging man, wearing powder blue robes. He had just sent some documents to the new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shaklebolt. A shrill ringing sound alerted Dumbledore to an object hanging upon the wall. The item was hanging between two snoozing ex-headmasters. The rectangular, rosewood piece had a gilded frieze around the base and a carved capital. It looked like a clock minus its pendulum, it was an organizer of sorts and it was currently ringing to remind the Headmaster of an engagement.

"Headmaster," came a voice behind Dumbledore. The man turned to face the painting of Phineas Nigellus Black

"Yes Phineas how can I help you?"

"The painting of Tilly Toke, at the entrance has informed me of the arrival of three old Gryffindors."

"Ah yes, I was expecting them. Excellent."

* * *

Harry, Remus and Sirius reached the familiar statue of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's office.

"Well here we are," announced Harry shifting nervously. "You know the password Remus?"

"Yes – 'Pepper Imps'"

The gargoyle jumped aside revealing a stone stairwell. The three men stepped up onto the marble steps, which immediately began to wind there way upwards; Sirius' eyes widened in shock. In the last few days he'd seen things that unnerved him. The photographs moved it seemed some sort of fashion statement in London to carry around sticks; he'd vanished under a cloak, travelled on a triple decker purple bus – speeding that wasn't pulled over, the paintings whispered and the statues moved. He began to wonder was he in some sort of dream. Someone once told him that cheese caused nightmares, had he eaten some? Above all the thing that worried him most was the fact that Hermione, Harry and Remus didn't seem in the slightest bit perplexed by the mobility of supposable inanimate objects.

"Heathcliff - "

Sirius turned to face the person who said his name. No, that wasn't his name; why did they insist on calling him that? Who are they? The photographs he'd been shown yesterday seemed to prove that he had known them once, but what if they were wrong? Maybe he just looked very similar to this Sirius character. Didn't Hermione say he was dead… and he was certainly not dead… surely he'd remember if he had died.

" – we're here."

Remus knocked on the large, oak double door to Dumbledore's office and allowed himself and the others in. Dumbledore was standing with his back towards them, placing a silver sparkling goblet back on the shelf.

He turned around to face his old students, "now, how can I help you Re… Remus?" The man stammered not expecting to see the black haired and equally dark eyed former student.

* * *

Hermione paced backwards and forwards in the shadow of the Great Oak. Two Second Year students, who'd been gazing longingly out the window during a History of Magic class, were stunned to see this young girl they didn't recognise muttering to herself. The droning voice of professor Binns had been sending them to sleep, but now this pretty person waving her hands about in defeat enthralled them.

Hermione was confused to say the least. She was trying desperately to suck it up and walk in, how hard could it be, one foot in front of the other. _Come on you can do this_. Every time she came close to leaving, her stomach would flip only calming as she retreated.

"Come on you faced Voldemort's followers and survived… you've tasted Ron's cooking, Merlin, what is wrong with you. You are here for Sirius not yourself, stop being so damn selfish. Suck it up… chicken… for Merlin's sake you're a Gryffindor."

She decided to run, if she ran fast enough she wouldn't stop until she was inside, nor did she till she found herself heading straight for the wall in the entrance hall.

The two Second Year students shrugged at each other when they saw the girl running at the top speed into the main door, she was weird. They turned their attention back to professor Binns and could fell their eyelids drooping. They'd been up late the previous night; at least now they could get some sleep.

* * *

Harry sat down in one of the chairs that had appeared in Dumbledore's office. Now he was worried, in all the years he had known the headmaster he had never seen him falter. He couldn't be sure if this was a good or a bad thing. Dumbledore however, had composed himself and took a seat at his desk.

"Mr. Black," he addressed Sirius smirking, "how nice of you to return."

Sirius stared dumbly at this man, who on earth was this.

"Headmaster - "

"Now Remus I'm no longer your boss or teacher call me Albus," he replied softly.

"Albus, as you can see we have some news…"

* * *

"Ow!" exclaimed Hermione as she nursed her stubbed toe. In her efforts to avoid the wall she accidentally kicked a statue.

She knew she should really make her way to the headmaster's office but what harm could there be in seeing the Great Hall one last time. She entered the hall, closing the heavy doors silently behind her. The hall was unusually quiet and she felt a rush of nostalgia hit her as she grinned at the sight. Hermione approached the Gryffindor house table and sat down at it. She smiled sardonically as she ran a hand along the smooth polished wood. She had so many memories of sitting here; if she closed her eyes she could imagine the joyous banter of the students. The gossiping about the other houses, who did what, the hearty discussions about the cutest guy in school, or even the whispered voices and occasional shriek.

She could also imagine the smells of the hall from the polish and wax used on the tables to the sweet smell of cakes, the aroma of freshly baked pies and roast chicken wafting through the halls or the bitter smell of coffee in the mornings. She had a picture in her mind of Harry and Ron shovelling food into their mouths before heading to Quidditch practice, while she more than likely headed to the library. The fighting, the laughter, the jokes good and bad. This place was special, why did it take so long to return? How could she dread this place so much?

She tilted her head up to the enchanted ceiling; it was cloudy reflecting the sky outside. The yellows, reds, greens and blues of the house flags caught her eye as she glanced up at the staff table. She had predicted that one day she would sit there, perhaps in McGonagall's seat. The one with the lion's head at the top, the feet and armrests shaped like paws. The building held a certain innocence masked in the familiar depictions of the badger, raven, lion and even the snake.

Hermione found herself reflecting the seven years she had spent inside these walls. Instead of heading to the headmaster's office, she went the opposite direction, towards the 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' classroom. Now there was a room that held memories locked away. The Cornish pixies in her second year, witnessing the affects of the Unforgivables in fourth but also the place she and Ron had shared their first kiss.

* * *

_March 1998 (Seventh Year)_

"_Well I still think Krum was a git," whispered Ron loudly to Harry._

_Harry rolled his eyes at Ron. He could never tell just what Ron was playing at. He knew for certain that Ron liked Hermione as more than a friend, but Merlin was he going about it the wrong way. Harry snuck a look in Hermione's direction – she heard. She however didn't notice Harry's sympathetic look; she was too annoyed. Her face had turned crimson in sharp contrast to her naturally pale complexion. Hermione, who was never one to cause trouble in class, turned her body around so that her back now faced her burgundy haired friend. She was entirely sick of hearing about this and if Ron couldn't get over it or more importantly was immature enough to keep bringing it up she was just going to ignore him…yeah they were known for their frequent arguments but Merlin was she sick of them. If Ron was going to be childish about it, he could stuff it._

"_Geesh… what's her problem," Ron again whispered too loudly to Harry, indicating to Hermione with his thumb._

_Harry was cringing in sympathy for his friend. He could imagine Hermione biting her tongue in an effort to prevent herself beating his best mate with her school books. God, Ron could be thick, at least he'd be out of his misery, as such, in ten minutes. Harry continued to write down his notes as were being dictated by the professor, ignoring the snide remarks coming from his right. _

_As the students were filing out of the finished class, Hermione lagged behind in the hopes her two best friends would wait for her._

"_Come on Hermione, you do want to get some of the Yorkshire pudding, you know if we wait it'll all be gone," Ron said irritated as his bushy haired companion slowly placed her belongings in her beige canvas satchel. _

_Once the room had become vacated, she turned sharply at Ron and spoke dangerously quiet, "well I didn't ask you to wait did I?"_

"_Merlin, what did I do this time!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands up in defeat._

_Harry reasoned that it would be better if he promptly left and anyway with Ron occupied it gave him a good excuse to talk to Ginny, without her older brother bothering them. In the last month he had found himself becoming fonder of the youngest Weasley._

"_You are unbelievable Ronald Weasley," Hermione said loudly._

"_What?" _

"_I really thought you'd have let go of the Viktor thing by now." _

"_That never bothered me," he replied innocently._

_Hermione sighed, it wasn't the place to begin another argument, anyway he had an important Quidditch match at the weekend, and there was no point in distracting him. She grabbed her bag and was ready to march out of the room when she turned to face him and said in a defeated tone, "if you had just asked me to that bloody dance earlier, I would have said yes and we would have saved ourselves all this grief."_

_As she walked past he grabbed her elbow, softly but firmly, "huh!" _

"_I'm not stupid Ron." _

"_I never said you where." _

_She wanted to scream in frustration, Merlin if he couldn't just take the hint, did she have to spell it out –I-L-I-K-E-Y-O-U- was it that difficult. However, she just stared at him shaking her head._

"_You know what Ron," she began in an utterly dejected tone, "I'm tired of these games. I went to a stupid dance with Viktor in fourth year, it was almost three years ago, please just let it go… anyway since when did I have to ask your permission to make my own decisions," her voice was steadily getting louder as her arms unconsciously uncurled from across her chest to motion her distress, "last I checked I was capable, but then all you ever thought of me was a buck toothed, bushy haired, know-it-all, so why did you get so irate about the whole thing? I don't know how many times I've had to say this to you; it was just a bloody dance. Do you think if I had known, I would have gone? You are really trying my patience; even Harry has figured this one out. Do you honestly think that if I didn't like you so much that I would put up with all your crap? It's because I like you that I let you copy my homework or I help you more or-"_

_Hermione's voice droned on in Ron's head but he didn't make out a word, 'did she just say she liked me?' his heart quickened, 'I'm almost positive that she said she liked me.'_

" – _Which is why I think that we should just -" Hermione was cut off by the unexpected joining of lips. " – Forget about it," she whispered, continuing what she had been saying but unaware of the words she uttered._

_Ron stared at the shock plastered across her face, he suddenly lost his appetite, what if he had misinterpreted what she'd said, after all he couldn't recall any of it 'oh bugger!'_

_Hermione was flabbergasted, he'd actually kissed her, 'he did kiss me?' She smirked when she looked at his face, he'd gone white and his freckles seemed to illuminate from it. She thought he looked adorably confused, one way to put him out of his misery. She stepped forward and slowly moved her lips towards his. Finally they'd kissed, and it was wonderful it only took them three years._

* * *

It took Hermione several seconds to realize where she was standing. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts, that she hadn't noticed the direction her feet had carried her – towards the dungeons, Snape's domain. The young woman leaned against the one of the cold limestone walls in the dimly lit corridor; this area always made her uneasy and it hadn't changed in the slightest.

The sound of footsteps made Hermione's breath catch. The confident clump of the shoes against the stone tiles echoes around the empty corridor. They also announced the arrival of someone approaching. Hermione realized with the falling of her stomach that this person would be behind her soon and that they were coming from the direction she needed to head in. The footsteps were getting louder until they suddenly halted, followed by the swish of a cloak as the heavy material was swung swiftly through the air.

"What are you doing here?" The voice she dreaded hearing again said. It still carried the heavy notes and greasy undertones. Hermione turned to face Severus Snape.

* * *

"So you see," said Remus, as he replaced his teacup on its saucer, "we're quite stumped."

Dumbledore replied with an 'mmm' noise. Harry had left the office to go in search of Hermione; Sirius had followed.

"We thought it best to come see you," said Remus, expecting a response this time.

"Well," began Dumbledore, leaning back in his seat and crossing his fingers, "there is one thing that may help…"

* * *

When Harry left the castle, he discovered Hermione missing. "Must have headed for theoffice,"he mumbled to no one in particular.

He turned to see his godfather standing behind him, obediently. It depressed him to see this once brilliant wizard, reduced to acting like a lost puppy. Even when he was a fugitive he had more dignity. Dumbledore recommended Harry show him around the grounds, in the hopes something would trigger a memory. Harry headed for the Quidditch pitch, from the stories he'd heard Sirius had spent a lot of time here, and it wasn't all watching his father play.

* * *

"Typical," Hermione muttered to herself.

"Hello Professor," she managed to say as nicely as possible.

"Miss Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure," Snape replied icily.

"You may want to accompany me to the Headmaster's office"

Severus Snape strode through the silent halls of Hogwarts. He had always had the ability to strike fear into the younger years, the older ones just plain out avoided the crooked nosed man. It was safer to be nowhere near him unless in Potions class, there was no escaping that or if you were one of his prized Slytherins. Hermione noted as she took two steps to each of his, that he still walked about as though he owned everything in sight, he would be scary to meet in a dark alley and with their history, and she hoped that would never occur. She also noted that even the paintings avoided his gaze, pretending to be asleep or just leaving their frames. Neither spoke as they made quick progress through the corridors, this suited Hermione, as she really had nothing to say to the intimidating Potion's Master. She did however feel like a student again, being forcefully marched to the Headmaster's domain, away from the back up of friends in the classroom.

"Pepper Imps."

Snape's deep voice pulled Hermione out of her thoughts; she looked up to see the Professor standing impatiently on the marble steps. The two adults moved up the stairwell, under a cloak of silence.

"Lupin!" Severus Snape sneered at his ex-colleague and school adversary.

Even though the two had fought on the same side in the War, their mutual dislike was firmly rooted in the past. When they attended Hogwarts together, Remus' friends had been the bane of Snape's existence, but secretly Snape had always envied the closeness they shared. He himself had always been an outcast, spending too much time reading Dark Art literature. After discovering Remus' secret, that he was a werewolf, in their sixth year, his green-eyed monster had increased drastically in size, an outcast with much closer, caring friends. Snape of course never or would never admit this and the two grown men continued the distaste, Snape choosing to make snide remarks while Remus opting for polite indifference.

"Snape," Remus replied smirking, "nice to see you again."

For a moment after Remus spoke silence reigned, in which Dumbledore sat behind his large desk grinning, his clear blue eyes showing signs of amusement.

"Ah, Severus, just the person I want to talk to."

* * *


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Six **

* * *

"He's what?" Snape's voice resounded around the cluttered room, "can't he even have the decency to stay dead. Will Black ever …"

Remus grabbed Hermione by the wrist pulling her swiftly from the room; he reacted with similar speed to a baker who smells a burning cake. He didn't want to see a repeat performance of her graduation night; he had noticed the look in her eyes, the unpredictable one.

"You wish me to make the _Recordoranimus _Potion?"

"Yes Severus I do."

"Headmaster, you do understand that, _Recordoranimus_ is a highly unstable potion. It is still in the process of being tested at the Ministry. Not only that, but the ingredients are very rare and expensive. Also to the best of my knowledge it takes five days to brew."

Dumbledore glanced at the bat like man, "I thought you'd like the challenge."

Severus knew he had no choice in the matter, so he turned and did what he did best, scowled and left the room grumbling to himself.

Albus Dumbledore sat and watched as the last person vacated the room prior to clasping his hands together delightedly. "Excellent plan Albus, even if I do say so myself."

* * *

The observing boxes at Hogwarts soared into the air to enable the spectators to watch the swift and dexterous game that is Quidditch. In turn each box exhibited the colours and emblem of one of the four houses – Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin or Gryffindor.

In one of said boxes, one of the gold and red stands, a young man with startling emerald green eyes, could be found silently reflecting, to his right sat his godfather. Neither chose to speak, both preferring to gaze off into the distance; acknowledging the spectacular view, which could only be achieved at that elevation. It was only noon, but the day was already darkening, the sullen clouds filtering the minimal sunlight available at this time of year. There was a smell of autumn to the air; a cold, crisp, fresh scent mixed with the tang of burning turf. This, most likely had been carried along with the breeze for miles, slowly diminishing its dominant aroma, instead creaming to the clean mountainous air. A pre-storm feel also radiated from the heavens, calm, relaxing but the hint of rain hung undeniably. Harry glanced in the direction of his godfather; they were seated in close proximity on the uncomfortably hard, wooden benches. Sirius was staring away with an unregistered, glaze in his eyes. What Harry would have given to have an infinitesimal clue as to what Sirius could be pondering? The man rarely spoke, and seemingly only to Hermione. Given the time to reflect what Remus had suggested, he began to believe the werewolf's words. Perhaps Sirius did recall something, question was, what? He would sell his soul in a flutter of a Snidget's wings to have even an ounce of the old Sirius return, just for one day, even for a moment; all he sought was a chance to speak to him one last time, to say sorry. Harry's muddled mind began to replay a memory, like gazing into a pensive.

* * *

_December 1995 (Christmas 5th year)_

_It was two days after Christmas Day, but the mood was still bright. Sirius' delight at having so much company was still evident, though as the last days of the holiday ended he had begun to become more sullen. Harry himself, was quite pleased; he had spent the holidays with his godfather, best friends and surrogate family. Mr. Weasley had not been released from St. Mungo's yet, but nothing could dampen the conclusion that Voldemort wasn't possessing him. However, at the present moment, Harry for once didn't want to return to Hogwarts. This was due to varying reasons from Umbridge to the ban on Quidditch, he really missed his Firebolt, but most of all, he was worried about Sirius – being isolated; he knew what it was like being forced to stay somewhere you would rather not be. Not forgetting, Grimmauld Place wasn't exactly cosy, with its black drapes and House-Elf heads. Mind you, he had found them amusing with Santa hats and beards. He would have a chat with Sirius before he left. _

_Hermione was walking down the steep stairs in Grimmauld Place, Harry noted she was taking each step carefully and holding on to the railing for support. It was Christmas, and during the festive season she always dressed nice, swapping her usual pyjama bottoms or jeans for skirts. It was somewhat of a tradition for her. Her mother would take her shopping the first day of the holidays and buy her clothes – ones that were necessary and some especially for Christmas. Mrs. Granger missed her daughter greatly during the term and liked to spoil her only child whenever she had the chance. This year Hermione was suppose to have gone skiing with her parents, but she cancelled telling them she needed to study. It was partly true. Her mother had sent her the clothes and presents. As the teenager carefully descended the stairs Harry took note of her clothing. He could never get over how transformed she looked, when she dressed up. She was almost entirely dressed in black. Her purposely creased, black skirt of a synthetic material reached her ankles, with this she wore a slash neck top that showed her rounded shoulders, the only colour evident was the red of her boots, peeping out beneath the skirt. She had no experience wearing boots, and had been amazed to be given them. What was her mother thinking? Well, she figured she'd have to wear them at least once, or it would be a waste. She also had a scarf with beaded tassels tied around her waist, which bobbed with the sway of her hips. Harry was watching from the doorway, waiting for his friend, she hadn't noticed him. Her hair had been hastily pulled back into a messy bun, from which strands of her bushy hair escaped and flew about her face. He also noticed that she had ink stains on her fingers. She may have been dressed differently, but you couldn't alter the fact that; Hermione Granger spent most of her time studying._

_Harry wasn't the only one watching her, unknown to the two friends, a tall, once handsome faced man was standing behind her. Watching as the teenager walked down the stairs, slowly. He came to his senses, to realize what he was doing and turned away, highly disgusted with himself. The unobserved man headed in the direction of Buckbeak._

"_Hey Harry," Hermione said cheerfully, having finally reached the end of the stairs._

"_Hey, taking a break?" Harry asked smirking._

"_Yes, and I'd recommend you do some work too. We do have OWLS this year Harry and that goes for Ron too. Wherever he's disappeared to."_

"_Ok, Ok, I get the point. Let's just go eat," Harry said holding out his arm for Hermione. The two best friends headed onto the kitchen, where the red-haired, freckled one had already begun eating._

* * *

_Later that night found Hermione sitting in the cold, dark kitchen of Grimmauld Place, head over her newly acquired book – 'New Theory of Numerology.' The other occupants of the house had long since gone to their rooms, but Hermione could not sleep. She had headed to the kitchen for a drink and on seeing the book had begun reading it. She had become engrossed in the book and by the time she realised what hour it was, it had become to late to read in bed. The light would wake Ginny up, and that wouldn't be fair. She was alerted however, to a thud outside the door, like someone walking into a table. _

'_Tonks! Clumsy, you had better not have woken up Mrs. Black.' She thought._

_However, when the door to the kitchen opened it wasn't Tonks who entered but Sirius. His left hand tightly gripping a bottle of 'Ogden's Old Firewhiskey'. His eyes appeared drowsy and bloodshot. _

"_Sirius?" _

_The dark haired man squinted his eyes to gain a better look at the blob sitting before him._

"_Hermione? What are you doing here?" _

"_Couldn't sleep." _

"_Oh! Mind if – if I join you?" he said falling into a seat, "want one," he offered her the bottle._

"_No. I'm ok thanks." _

"_No – I didn't think so."_

_He wasn't drunk, just a little light-headed._

"_So, what you reading?"_

"_A book Harry got me for Christmas." _

"_Ah yes – Harry."_

"_Sirius, you ok?"_

* * *

_"There's no better sensation than finishing your obligation; and when others fret and scream, you can sit and dream."_

_Harry groaned and rolled over, "that bloody homework planner," he cursed. Ron had knocked it from his bedside locker in his sleep. Harry being a naturally light sleeper had been woken up its 'helpful' advice._

"_May as well get a glass of water," he mumbled to himself, pulling a cloak around his shoulders. On his way out he noted the seemingly empty frame – "I wonder does Dumbledore have Phineas spy on me when I'm asleep too." _

* * *

"_I'm worried about him Hermione."_

"_That's your job."_

_Sirius looked at Hermione horrified, she had spoken so matter-of-factly, "Hermione that's-"_

"_You misunderstood; you care because you love him. Sirius he's James' son. If you didn't care about your best friend's son – your godchild- then there would be something wrong."_

_Sirius stared at the fifteen year old, sitting so knowledgably before him, with an unreadable gaze, "he's not happy though," he sighed. "It's too much responsibility for someone so young," he angrily banged his fist of the table, causing the page of Hermione's book to change._

"_Harry has never really been happy Sirius. Harry will never be truly happy, you can only be as happy as you allow yourself to be," she said sadly._

_Sirius stared dumbly at her._

"_The only times, lately, that I have seen him without any worries, happy I suppose, are when he's playing Quidditch or is around you. You mean the world to him," she smiled sweetly at the older man._

_Sirius shook his head laughing, "You know at times, you sound remarkably like Moony."_

_This time Hermione smiled._

_They sat in silence for a moment, before Hermione stretched her arms out and placed her small hands over Sirius' much larger ones, "what Fred said about you know…"_

_Sirius blanched, "not risking my neck."_

"_He didn't mean it."_

"_He called me a coward," he whispered._

_Hermione's voice rose angrily, "Sirius black you are most definitely not a coward – you risked your life for your friends. You believe in something so much that you would willingly die for it. That does not make you a coward – it's, and I don't want to sound corny, noble."_

"_Is a bit corny," Sirius sniggered._

_She didn't notice that she still had her hands cupped around his, "what I wanted to say was – if you ever doubt your involvement – know this, without you Harry would be a wreck." _

"_Someone mention my name?" came a groggy voice from the doorway._

"_Harry!" cried Sirius, pulling his hands away from Hermione, "just having a chat."_

"_Well it would appear no one can sleep tonight," Hermione joked._

"_No, I was asleep – till the homework reminder woke me," Harry smiled._

_Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, "anyone for a drink," she said._

_As Hermione turned to make three cups of hot chocolate, Harry noticed Sirius looking intently at Hermione. 'Must be wondering, why on earth she would give us that for Christmas. Anyway thinking about looks, Ron's been staring at Hermione a lot lately. I wonder does he like her or more importantly, does she like him.' Harry thought._

_Hermione turned holding two cups in her hands, "where did Sirius go?"_

"_He just left, mumbling something, think it was goodnight."_

"_Oh! Ah well, hot chocolate for two then."_

* * *

As Harry slowly came around from his thoughts, he became aware of two things. His godfather was watching him with what can only be described as sagacious looks, but also that a heavy fog had descended upon the Quidditch pitch, much like a cat pouncing on an unsuspecting mouse. It created the illusion that they were floating in the sky above the clouds. Harry stood up placing both his strong, coarse palms on the dull iron railing in front. He observed the mist weaving and snaking around the bark of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. A morose grin crossed his lips before sighing deeply. It was beautiful if only for a moment before Life came flooding back to reclaim her prey.

"Heathcliff…." 'No his name is Sirius' "…Sirius, come on we best head back"

The two men of almost equalling height set off down the wooded steps at the rear of the towering structure. The younger man perplexed and silently praying to his father's memory for hope, the other, a man in possession of haunting, shadowy russet tinted eyes also confused; he however, at an image of a young boy with glasses and broom that flew, and flashes of the colour red. Of what significance, he could not comprehend. Maybe he really was this character they had spoken of. What he did know was that he felt more secure and relaxed seating here than anywhere he had been in the previous week.

* * *

Hermione turned to face her co-worker after they walked out the main doors of the castle.

"Well are you going to explain to me what that was all about?"

"Later."

"No, I'd like to know now."

"I said, later," Remus replied becoming annoyed with her insistence.

"Why not now?" she responded progressively more agitated.

Remus answered by pointing to the two bodies appearing through the mist.

'_Damn you Remus and your super wolfish eyesight.'_

"Harry would you bring Heathcliff back to Hermione's apartment, I have something to show her," Remus addressed Harry in an almost order like tone.

Harry eyed the two suspiciously but agreed.

When Harry and Sirius and were out of earshot, Remus faced Hermione, "see Harry didn't ask any questions."

"I'm not Harry," she replied smirking, "and anyway he is use to talking orders – Auror!"

Remus glanced at the stubborn twenty-five year old and sighed, "just follow me."

Hermione followed her ex-professor into one of the empty classrooms on the ground floor of the castle.

"So why did you send Harry and Sirius away?" she asked immediately entering the room.

Remus gave the impression of being uncomfortable with the question. He had an odd expression. He was treating the information he had carefully, trying to find the correct words to utter, choosing them was highly important to make what he was about to say plausible.

"Remus, just tell me." She jumped up to sit on the bare teacher's desk and continued to look at the man almost twenty years her senior expectantly.

"Yes, sitting that's a good idea," was all he articulated, sitting shiftily for a while.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, do you plan on telling me anytime soon or are we just wasting time?"

Remus stood and paced back and forth in front of the exasperated young woman, going over in his head what to say.

He began, "when you were outside, Harry took Sirius to look for you…"

"And?"

"Dumbledore, after hearing the facts, thinks he may have the solution."

"Brilliant, that's what we wanted to hear…"she trailed off noticing for the first time the uncomfortable glare in Remus' milky blue eyes, "your not finished are you?" she asked accusingly.

"No"

"Well?"

"He said there might be away. If we use a potion called _Recordoranimus_."

"I recognise the name. I read about it in one of the Ministry Department newsowls.

Remus smirked at her.

"Well, you should know it gets boring in the shop, I was just exploring my options."

His smirk grew into a heart felt chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"There's nothing wrong with that – zilch!"

"I know."

"Good," she continued smiling, "what else?"

Remus face became stony once more, "Albus thinks, if we get it, it would help Sirius remember - "

"Wait I remember why they wrote the article, REMUS, it's a highly unstable potion. They're thinking of stopping the trials and then it will become banned. We can't use that, what if something goes wrong in it's preparation."

"I heard, but Albus thinks that Snape could brew it correctly."

"Remus, I know Snape is a highly qualified and efficient Potions Master but this potion is really complex, or so I read, what if he makes a mistake? He didn't or even doesn't like Sirius. Who's to say he won't purposely make a blunder."

"I understand your concerns Hermione and I'm very aware of Snape's attitude towards Sirius but he would also do anything for Dumbledore. It was he who after all who saved him."

"Well I guess, if Dumbledore believes it's a good idea," Hermione said unsure.

"He does. We just have to trust him, as horrible as his personality can get, Snape has never let us down when it counted," Remus spoke as if trying to convince himself.

"I guess Sirius' faith rests in the cauldron of his foe," she snorted.

"There's more but I think you should follow me to Hogsmeade first."

"Why?"

"We are going on a little excursion."

They walked toward the small entirely wizard town, both caught up in their own feelings about this 'idea' of the eccentric headmaster, but then he always seemed to know what was best. When they arrived Lupin took Granger by the hand and they disapparted.

* * *

"Well we're here."

"I figured as much," Hermione answered, still pondering the use the memory potion.

Remus ignored the remark and walked towards the building, and this was no ordinary one. It was architecturally antique in comparison to the modern houses of the preceding area. Hermione gazed up at it her mouth indignantly hanging open. Apparently, this was a 'country cottage'. When Remus had said this, Hermione had envisioned a quaint lodgings, perhaps a few shrubs; a little more like the one in Yorkshire, not what was standing triumphantly before her. Hermione couldn't get over how big the place was. She estimated that it was at least four hundred years old and one of the predecessors had planted ivy, which had grown up the turrets and blocked the light from entering some of the front rooms. The house itself appeared to be made out of limestone, or at least the facade was, some of the relief work was blackened from acid rain. Which she believed only added to the personality of the house. Inscribed Latin was etched along the architrave, the acid rain having had its was with it too, dissolving the limestone and in turn making it next to impossible for Hermione to read it. She decided to quiz Remus on it later. Long, narrow steps led up to the porch that was held proudly by two Corinthian style columns, which protected the monstrous oak door. Where there were brass knockers and handles that only closer inspection appeared to be shaped like serpent bodies, surrounded by acanthus leaves. If she had walked up the mile long drive to the house, she would have witnessed the oak trees forming a guard of honour. Not only did they create lovely golden foliage in autumn, playing with the light only allowing snippets in, but also making it the perfect shaded area during warm summer days.

"If this is the front, I wonder what the interior looks like," Hermione mumbled to herself.

"Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there gawping?" Remus' voice pulled her out of her dream world.

"I was just taking in my surroundings; I would have expected you to be cultural."

Remus smirked and Hermione followed him into the aged structure.

"So this is the 'country cottage' then? Only I thought cottages were small, not bloody huge!"

"Not my fault Sirius' family underestimated the building."

"What? … Ok," Hermione said absentmindedly, she hadn't been listening; her eyes had gone wide with wonder. This caused Remus to snigger but she seemed oblivious to this. The hallway they were standing in was as wide as her bedroom and about three times as long. The floor, although in need of a good sweeping, had been polished in a rich varnish that accentuated the grain of the mahogany. Halfway through the hallway she was greeted by a large marble staircase that branched into two stairwells. At the point where the staircase branched was a large regency mirror, decorated with golden intertwined lotus leaves. The wide base of the staircase faced bulky panelled doors, which were closed. She assumed they led to some form of reception room. The walls were decorated with paintings of the owner's ancestors. They all watched as the intruders made their way down the foyer.

"Who did you say owned this place?" asked Hermione.

"Sirius."

"Really?"

"He owns everything in sight. You've seen the Black family tree; they're a very extended bunch. With him being the last Black he inherited the lot"

"So who lived here then, it doesn't seem to be as dark as Grimmauld Place," Hermione enquired.

"A cousin of Sirius' called Antiochus Scapolo. He was however much older than Sirius, he died about fifteen years ago. As far as I know, the house has been lying idle since. Although Dumbledore suspected that the LesStranges hid out here for awhile."

"Well that explains the dirt," Hermione replied rubbing her finger along the frame of one of the paintings. It appeared that everything now lay under a shroud of undisturbed dust. "So are there any disturbed House-Elves lurking about, or are we going to find a decapitated one in an abandoned cupboard" Hermione said bitterly, though she still believed SPEW was a good idea.

"Hermione!"

"Sorry, I don't know where that came from." She shook her head apologetically.

"So Remus, why exactly are we here?" Hermione asked the werewolf ignoring his exclamation.

"Dumbledore recommended that here would be the best place to keep Sirius if he is to be given the potion. He has no bad memories of here, that we are aware of, but also is a quiet area that will enable him to recover faster," responded Remus.

"That's well and good Remus, but who is to stay with him? He can't very well be left alone."

"No he can't, can he?" the older man continued, "That's why Albus recommended… you."

"What! I can't stay here, I have a business to look after and Kevin, he wouldn't like the idea of me living with another man – whoever he is."

"Weren't you saying that you missed Sirius?" said Remus.

"Yes but…"

"And Kevin is away isn't he?"

"That's right but…"

"Sirius also seems more comfortable around you and I can look after the shop while you're here," he continued pleasantly.

"You – you're his best friend. Why can't you stay here?" Hermione said suddenly remembering the very important little fact, that they had been friends since the age of eleven.

"Tonks, and there is a transformation in three weeks."

"Harry? – His godson," she tried desperately.

"Harry has to work; also I don't think Molly would allow him with the wedding planning, so really there's only you? Think of it as a holiday, you did mention that you would like one."

"Does this voice work on Tonks," Hermione said, "Yeah, I did say that, but I meant somewhere like Greece."

"It does," smiled Remus, "well?"

"Fine, I don't really have a choice," the young woman replied surrendering.

"Now Hermione, it's not a task – you know he'd do it for you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow questionably, "he wouldn't have to, as someone else would have been roped into doing it anyway."

Remus continued in his calm teaching voice, that he used when explaining something, "anyway it'll only be during the week that you will be alone – we'll be here at the weekends."

"I'll do it," Hermione said defeated. "On one condition, we stay in my flat." She held up her hand to silence him. "I understand the merits of the silence and the seclusion but I think moving Sirius again would only be disruptive. He seems content enough in my spare room. And anyway, this place is too big. You're not having me here to clean under the pretence of aiding Sirius!"

"if that will make you more comfortable."

"When will the potion be ready?" she asked.

"Well Snape will have to retrieve the more rare and expensive components and brew it, also you'll have to be prepared, so I guess about…"

"Two weeks time?"

Remus nodded.

* * *


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/n**: This is a flashback chapter, I thought it was a good time to explain a few things like; why she cut her hair? How did she open a shop? And a little mention of where Kevin appeared from. Anyway I hope you enjoy and feel free to tell me what you think... Thanks for the reviews.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

_April 2000_

A light spring breeze blew through the budding forest situated at the rear of a weather worn bungalow. A man, with prematurely grey hair, glanced around his homely kitchen. He liked it here, the south facing aspect, meant that the kitchen received a generous amount of light during the day. These rays caused shadows to snail across the beams, spanning the length of the roof. Remus didn't have the heart to remove the spiders that taken up residence on the old railway sleepers. The bungalow, itself, was in need of some repairs. The shale slates of the roof, were dislodging, this in turn allowed the rain to seep into the rooms below. There were no electrical lines this far from the nearest town, as the occupant was a wizard, it went unnoticed. The bungalow was comfortable - and that's all that mattered!

Remus Lupin was busying himself making lunch in the kitchen for his visitor, who was late, when he heard the clanging of tin dustbin lids. The thirty-nine year old smirked to himself.

"Sweetheart! Your late!" he playfully yelled.

"Sweetheart? How cute," was the sneering reply.

Remus froze, carefully placing down the brown enameled teapot, he slowly turned. To his horror, three unmasked Death Eaters were standing in his kitchen.

"You!" Remus growled, pointing to the silver handed man.

"What Moony, no hug?" the nasal voice replied.

The only female in the group, a young chubby girl no more than twenty-three, was staring oddly at Remus with wide almost transparent eyes. She stood behind Pettigrew, and was a good head taller than him. She was grinning madly and clasping her hands delightedly together, she started chanting, "We found the werewolf, we found the werewolf," in a sing-song manner.

"Indeed," casually remarked the third.

Pettigrew made a sudden movement forward; Remus with faster reflexes moved too. The dark man curtly whipped out his wand and shook his head. Remus stalled. Pettigrew, however, was stopped when the blonde caught his elbow.

"Tut Tut Peter, you know the rules. I get to play with the beastie first. When I'm finished, you can have him."

Wormtail turned abruptly pulling his elbow roughly from the woman's surprisingly strong grip. He looked to the other man for acknowledgement.

"Let her play," Avery commanded. "I've had enough of your squabbling."

While Remus had been preparing lunch, he had left his wand on the draining board. He was mentally jinxing himself, if 'Mad-Eye' knew, he'd kill him. First rule of the Order - _don't put wand out of sight._ Well second anyway, Moody was behind the first - _don't put wand in back pocket. _

He could see it - all nine inches of it; if he could just grab it he'd be sorted. His opportunity seemed to arise; Avery and Pettigrew appeared to be having a muted argument. Rockford, however, noticed Remus' arm slowly extended and inch towards the wand. She waited until he had almost gripped it before nonchalantly calling out, _"Accio wand!" _

Remus' breath hitched as he saw the beech fly past his face and into the smirking girl's out stretched hand.

Rockford approached the disheartened man, a smile playing on her overly red lips and whispered in his ear, "How very naughty of you, I'm just going to have to teach you a lesson."

"I wouldn't mind her half-breed," remarked Avery. "She's a little crazy. One too many Cruciatus curses... melted her mind." Avery grinned.

Remus caught the girl's eyes again; they weren't transparent, as such, but glassier. He momentarily wondered if she was aware of her surroundings. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage; she after all was holding his wand.

The young woman ran her ring finger along Remus' rough jaw line, "Oh! Stubble. I like my men rugged," she continued seductively, before pulling away biting her lip and giggling insanely.

"Rockford – No!" commanded Avery, from his new position. He had taken to leaning against the cracked blue painted wall. "Don't lower your already, low, standards."

Rockford's head shot around to face Avery's. Though she didn't say anything, Remus imagined her eyes narrowing at the older Death Eater.

"Moony's-" began Wormtail.

"Don't you call me that," growled Remus, trying desperately to figure away out of his predicament.

"The _Wolf_ is enjoying it. Really who would willingly associate with a half-breed?"

"I was fine company for you once."

"That was many years ago."

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Peter replied innocently. Taking a step forward he grabbed Remus' wand from Rockford and began to wave it mockingly in the werewolf's face.

"Betray James and Sirius," Remus bit out. His quick eyes were following Peter's podgy body and determining a pattern in the shorter man's parading. Waiting for his moment, Peter's nasal voice washed over Remus.

Pouncing Remus caught the Death Eater off guard, his fist met with the mound of flesh above Wormtail's jaw. Due to his sudden surprise, Peter dropped both wands. For a moment everyone stood still, each with their eyes aimed at the discarded sticks. Both men leaped at the same time, resulting in a mad scramble, where Remus stood victorious. With both wands held firmly in his drowning man's grip, he stood posed for a duel. In the jostle, Remus had elbowed Peter in the nose. The mousy-haired man pulled himself from the tiles, and looked at Remus with disgust plastered on his face. There was a cold, tingly sensation around his nose. Running a finger over it he saw that he was bleeding.

"You never were quick, Wormtail," said Remus. Pointing a wand at the bleeding Death Eater he said "_Petrificus Totalus_" Peter fell rigidly to the kitchen floor with a dull sound.

Avery, no longer against the wall, started to clap acerbically. "Well done; nice show, but now you face me."

The two men circled one another, the best that they could in a small, cramped kitchen. Rockford jumped onto the draining board to watch, wearing a smile similar to a child on Christmas morning.

"Hey Wolf," she called to Remus. "Do you mind if I eat some of your food? Of course you don't... you two - play nice!"

Remus drowned out her voice; he needed to concentrate on the other Death Eater.

The young girl watched fascinated as the two men dueled, yelling various curses and counter-curses. When it looked as though Avery was about to fall, Rockford casually pointed her wand at Remus again.

_"Expelliarmus!_ She called and successfully disarmed the werewolf. She never removed herself from her position but as Avery revived Peter she remarked, "Don't look so down trodden. We're Death Eaters; of course we cheat in duels." She beamed happily at Remus.

Peter, now standing, approached the slumped body of Remus. "Stand up," he roared. Turning away he said indifferently, "They weren't worth it."

"What?" Remus groaned. He tried to sound threatening but the blast into the wall winded him.

"Padfoot and Prongs, they weren't worth it. Lily well she was something even if she was a Mudblood, bet she tasted like strawberries. It's a pity really, she didn't have to die."

"If she didn't, then we all would have known you for the rat that you are," Remus said heatedly.

"Didn't think of that, just as well she's dead then, eh Moony?" Peter jeered.

"You bastard!" spat Lupin.

"Language! It's nothing personal, but I think it's time you joined the other two - make a set out of it," continued Pettigrew.

"Nothing personal? You are still as stupid as you were all those years ago, when Prongs and Padfoot took pity on you - this whole war is personal, you idiot!"

"SILENCE!" three heads turned to see an irate looking woman. "Now shut it! It's my time to play," Rockford huffed, effectively silencing Peter. "And I've always found you a little sniveling... now you," she turned to Remus. "What to do with you?"

Remus continued to taunt Peter; his plan was to distract them all long enough to try and make a grab for his wand again, but also Tonks shouldn't take much longer. If he could just keep them talking till she arrived.

"So what was it he promised, to live? You know at the time, we wouldn't have killed you."

"You may have been fit company once but that was before I learned the error of my ways. Our Master showed me that."

"Your _dead_ master," corrected Remus.

"He will resurrect again," Peter said as though reassuring himself.

"He's not the Messiah Peter."

It happened so fast, he hadn't expected it; one second he was mocking Peter, the next he was in excruciating pain in a ball on the ground. It felt like his bones were being individually bent in opposing directions. He could feel ice-cold agony shooting down his spine, while little pins jabbed and stung the exposed areas. His head was filling with white light, blinding him. He could hear an agonizing scream and with sickening realization, he knew it was himself. It finished as abruptly as it had begun. Remus pulled himself on to all fours, coughing and spluttering. His teeth were throbbing; he could hear them sniggering above, the girl giggling again. It stung to breathe, his lungs felt like they were bound in ropes and there was a tangy metallic taste on his lips. Remus spat out the blood that had pooled in his mouth, conjuring up the last of his strength he muttered, "Did you know Voldemort's father was a Muggle?"

If he were going to die, at least he'd go fighting.

Pettigrew leapt forward and struck his ex-friend with the heavy silver hand. Remus' elbows buckled under this alien weight and he crumpled to the cold, tiled floor. Peter stood triumphantly over him.

"It won't be long now, old-friend. Say hello to Padfoot and Prongs for me," and with that Wormtail dealt another harsh blow to Moony's already aching and worn-out body.

Rockford crossed her arms and huffed, resembling an infant. "Avery," she moaned. "Make him stop. He's ruining my fun."

* * *

She sat on her bed at her parent's house fixedly staring at the piece of parchment gripped tightly between her fingers. She had easily looked at it a hundred times, since receiving it the previous month. She found it odd, that such a small article held so much importance. Behind the sparkling green ink, favoured by her old headmaster, was masked the effort and work, the countless hours studying. Now she pondered, was it wasted time? All the time bent over a book, straining her eyes in a fading glow, had it been worth it? In theory yes - she had achieved what she wanted, 'Outstanding' in all the exams, but at what cost? The loss of her time? Her teenage years? Didn't her aunt not say, only two weeks ago that, _"They are the best years of your life Hermione, don't waste them." _

Could she have spent this time in the company of now departed friends?

Hermione picked up the second piece of parchment, on this one the writing was a lot more formal, addressed to a, 'Miss Hermione Granger.' The parchment was heavier, and obviously more expensive, inside also held an answer to her future. She was however, unsure if she wanted it. Through all her years at Hogwarts, and especially after becoming Head Girl, Hermione would have loved to work for the Minister. Now she sat utterly, utterly confused. She knew deep down, where she was brutally honest, had Ron been alive she wouldn't have spent so long deliberating. She would have replied 'yes' and sent the reply back with the same Ministry Owl.

'_Should I take the job? Harry thinks yes, but he would... my parents don't understand. Who can I ask for advice? Professor Lupin?_ She thought.

"Honey?"

Hermione became aware of someone gently shaking her.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

She turned to face her concerned looking mother. "Yes Mom, I'm fine," she smiled. Standing up she placed the two offending letters on her locker. "Have they arrived yet?"

"No Dear, they're not due for another for another hour. I just wanted you to help me set the table."

Hermione nodded. "Sure I'll be down in a few minutes."

Mrs. Granger turned at the door and said, "Oh! I almost forgot there's a letter for you."

"From who?" asked a confused Hermione. There was no Muggle mail on Sundays.

"Harry's owl - Hedmig?"

"Hedwig," Hermione automatically corrected.

"Lovely looking bird, that's why I was calling you for the last ten minutes," Mrs. Granger smirked; she turned and headed towards the kitchen.

"Why did Harry send me an owl?" Hermione asked out loud pulling on an oversized grey cardigan around her.

She knew very well that 'setting the table' was code for 'I'm running late and I desperately need you to finish while I shower'. Hermione pulled her door closed behind her and on entering the kitchen her suspicions were proved correct. Her mother was frantically dashing about.

Hermione picked up the letter on the table and examined the handwriting. It was definitely Harry's, but it was in a hastily scribbled script.

Mrs. Granger noticed her daughter enter the humid room and turned around with a bowl and wooden spoon, she was about to demand some creaming when she noticed her twenty-year-old's face pale and her hand shoot to her neck. She placed down the utensils and gently positioned her hand on her daughter's forearm. Hermione shuddered at the touch.

"Hermione Honey, what's wrong?"

"Mom I'm so sorry I... I have to go. Em... apologize to the Fitzgearlds for me and eh... congratulate Joanne on the baby, but I'm sorry I have to have left five minutes ago," kissing her mom on the cheek, she disapparated.

Mrs. Granger picked up the discarded letter that had fallen to the ground.

_Hermione,_

_Remus -- ATTACK -- Mungo's NOW... _

_HP._

* * *

Hermione reappeared in an alleyway near the department store 'Purge & Dowse LTD'. She rushed to the window with the dusty mannequins, sporting out of date fashions. She looked directly at the one in the green pinafore.

"Wotcher," she whispered quietly. "Here to see Mr. Remus Lupin." The mannequin nodded its head and beckoned Hermione with its jointed finger. To the more acute Muggles passing by Hermione appeared to be peering in the window of a shop under refurbishment, to the average Muggle she went unnoticed as most shoppers bustled by, not giving the shop a second glance. No one noticed the nineteen-year-old walk through the once solid pane of glass. Hermione found herself standing in the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

She quickly glanced through the floor guide, realizing she hadn't a notion what had happened so she resorted to asking the snappy, unfriendly brunette behind the counter. There was a short wizard in front of her who appeared to have forgotten why he was there, but a glance at his arm, deciphered that.

"Fourth floor," the brunette said, barely glancing up from her nails she was inspecting.

"Hello. I'm looking for Mr. Remus Lupin, I'm not sure where he is," Hermione said.

The young girl looked up and sighed clearly annoyed she had to do some work.

"Hold on... Lupin... Lupin you say... Nope no Lupins here." She turned back to her nails.

Hermione knocked on the glass partition, "could you check again please?"

The girl narrowed her eyes. "Name?" she grunted.

Hermione suppressed the urge to scream, she was in a hurry. "Remus, R-E-M-U-S. Lupin, L-U-P-I-N."

"Yeah there's one. Go to the third floor, first corridor on the right. Follow it until the end, climb the stairs, then take second left. Shouldn't miss it, only ward there." The girl replied indifferently and grabbed a bottle of purple nail polish.

Hermione sighed and headed in the direction of Remus' ward. His ward was isolated from all others, and with great difficulty she finally found it. Only because one of the portraits took a liking to the very dressed up young witch, and showed her the way. He also told her that in his day, bushy hair was a sign of possession and if she wanted he could take her to a secluded ward, and he'd be sure to frighten any demons away. Hermione ignored the painting; instead, she concentrated on the echoing click of her heels in the empty halls. She hadn't had a chance to change out of her formal clothing. She realized she must look ridiculous in her formal attire and oversized, shabby, grey cardigan.

Eventually she spotted the messy dark hair of her friend. "How is he?" asked Hermione glancing in the ward window, and seeing a very pale looking Tonks holding Remus' hand.

"The Healers say he'll be ok," replied Harry, "that he was lucky."

"Lucky?"

"Much more and he would have died."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

"Wormtail!" spat Harry.

Hermione gasped, "the silver hand." Her gaze automatically returned to the bed.

Harry nodded mutely.

Hermione continued to question not removing her eyes from Remus' sleeping form, "Did they get him?"

"Yes and Avery and 'Maddie' Rockford."

"Well at least some good has come of this, they alive?"

"Pettigrew and Rockford are. Avery went down fighting."

"That's got to be it," she muttered to herself. "There's no more - right?" Hermione asked pleadingly.

"You know as much as I do. Though the Ministry thinks there is still a handful left. I doubt they'll do anything, bide their time and return in a few years, different names..."

"Why Professor Lupin?"

"Don't know. Avery knew the Order was after him, Pettigrew is a fool and Rockford well she's a little unpredictable."

"No I mean... did they just come across Professor Lupin or what?" Hermione asked.

"No. Wormtail tracked him down, wanted to finish the last of the Marauders off - the bastard!" Harry yelled, kicking the wall angrily, his eyes glistening. "They ganged up on him. Tonks arrived out and thought it seemed quiet even for Remus, so she called backup. Merlin Hermione, he was crumpled on the floor in a bloody mess. Pettigrew was repeatedly striking him with the silver hand. You should have seen him, so pale and bruised, I... I thought he was dead," Harry's voice choked and he sniffed. "If Tonks hadn't had turned up..."

Hermione silently shook her head.

"More Aurors turned up," continued Harry, "they captured those two, but in the process Remus' bungalow was burnt down - he's lost everything, it's all gone!"

Hermione looked up and whispered, "not everything," and indicated to Tonks, who was on her way out of the ward.

"Hermione," Tonk's weak voice forced out.

"Hey," she replied, wrapping her arms around the Auror and bringing her into a hug.

* * *

_May 2000_

Silence. That's what greeted her. Hermione looked around the dark kitchen of Grimmauld Place. They were all purposely avoiding her gaze, looking fixedly at the table instead. Banging her mug against the wood, heavier then she had intended, caused Harry to grimace.

"You will all be giving evidence though, won't you," she asked again, fixing her stare on her emerald-eyed friend.

"Well you see... me and... Tonks and I... well we're Aurors..."

"And?

"In this case, we've already given evidence." Harry looked at Tonks, whose violet hair was hard to miss, silently asking for help.

"When?" Hermione asked.

Harry took a deep breath, "our reports."

"Your what?" He'd expected that. "Harry you're still in training - how could you have given a report?"

Silence.

No reply only fuelled her irritation with the situation. Hermione turned to face Remus and asked much softer, "Professor, you'll be there though." They avoided her eyes again.

Remus sighed deeply. "No, I won't be."

"And why not?" said Hermione, not allowing Remus the chance to finish.

The purple haired woman squeezed her boyfriend's hand before speaking. "Hermione, the Minister thinks that evidence from Remus will only... only hinder Pettigrew's conviction."

"That's ridiculous!" cried Hermione.

"I know, we all know," said Tonks. "But the Minister has the final say."

Hermione looked at the disconsolate faced gathered around the kitchen table. If Professor Lupin wasn't going to give evidence, how was Pettigrew supposed to be charged? Then it hit her. Hermione glanced at the ex-professor, he had healed quickly, but because the inflictions were with a silver implement, he hadn't healed fully. She wondered if he would always carry some marks of the attack, just another reminder of the werewolf inside of him.

Hermione stared directly into his milky-blue eyes, and spoke sadly. "But Peter isn't been charged with Remus' attack, is he?"

Remus shook his head.

She wanted to say it was unfair, to scream and complain, but what good would it do. Instead she said dejectedly, "so only my evidence is being heard."

"No," said Harry. "Out of us though, only you will give evidence in the trial."

"When?"

Harry handed Hermione a piece of parchment.

Hermione turned it over; the red wax seal displayed a barn owl holding a scroll in its beak and weighing scales in its talons, the emblem of the Wizengamot. "What's this?"

"Just read it."

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_You are requested, by order of the Minister for Magic, to give evidence in the forthcoming trial: The Wizarding World Vs Peter Pettigrew._

_You are expected to be at Courtroom nine at: 12.30 pm on May 12._

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_S.W. Waddell._

_Senior Undersecretary to the Minister._

_Ministry of Magic._

Hermione sat silently contemplating what she just read for a few moments. "This is on Friday. Three days time! I don't even know how the Wizengamot works."

* * *

To say she was surprised would have been lying. She had expected this outcome, but it still hadn't prepared her. Pettigrew, deserved to be punished, justice called for it. He had done many terrible things, but the Kiss? The thought of the Dementors lowering their dark cloaks, and revealing what was beneath, made Hermione shudder. Lock him away for eternity; curse him to feel every pain he ever inflicted, but taking someone's soul - his essence, that was literally a fate worse than death. If only Sirius was still alive, it would have been easier. She didn't know how to handle Harry anymore. She felt as if they were slowly growing further apart.

Peter's trail was, to put it mildly, disturbing. When she had sat in the public gallery at Rockford's, she had felt uncomfortable and ill. Rockford was a woman she didn't know, never fought. Rockford was insane, that was obvious, and if the situation wasn't so serious, she may have felt sorry for the woman.

The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, who somehow managed to be re-elected, was asking the young blonde questions. Rockford completely ignored him. She was rocking in her chair and only her cracked lips were visible beneath her matted hair. She appeared to be mumbling something that was inaudible.

Fudge was becoming more and more enraged until eventually he shouted her name, "Madison Rockford."

She looked up, causing the blonde strands to fall away from her wide eyes. She smiled at him. Fudge looked furious. Yet, still the Death Eater continued to ignore the questioning, seeming oblivious that she was in court. Her chanting became louder, causing the Wizengamot and public gallery to erupt into loud whispers. It was this that really got Hermione. Either Rockford had Muggle connections or, and the 'or' was even too awful to contemplate. How had a Death Eater, come to learn a Muggle nursery rhyme?

Her sentencing had caused an outcry. Hermione, as she silently slipped out of the courtroom, couldn't decide if it was fair sentence. Madison Rockford had been involved in the assault on Professor Lupin, for which she was not charged. She had done many awful things but Hermione believed that the 'punishments' inflicted on her by Voldemort, had effectively erased what had been the original Madison Rockford. For all the Wizengamot knew, the Death Eater could have been under the Imperius Curse. One thing Hermione did know was she didn't deserve to get off. Some form of punishment was deserved and that came in the form of '_a life sentence, to be served in a secure ward of St. Mungo's. For her safety and the safety of others.'_

This was probably best for the girl who was deemed, "_so 'disturbed', that even the Dementors had no affect on her_", in the Daily Prophet, the following day.

Peter's trial was different. Hermione could feel the heavy air radiating out the doors and into the darkened corridor, to which she had been led to wait in. There were no windows enchanted like the ones near Mr. Weasley's office. The only light was from the candles floating far above her bushy hair, reflecting a dull orange glow onto the gloomily painted walls. The dreariness of her surroundings gave the young witch a foreboding feeling. To keep her mind from the trial taking place, she had tried to estimate, how far beneath London she currently was. If she had gone down so many floors, each with a twelve foot high roof; that would make it... She never got to finish that thought as she heard the short Junior Secretary call her name.

"Miss Hermione Granger," the soft male voice called again. The little wizard escorted Hermione to the entrance; he smiled encouragingly before leading her to her seat.

From her chair in the middle of the long room and facing the Minister, Hermione could tell the entire, plum coloured robe wearing Wizengamot was in attendance. She quickly searched the sea of faces for a familiar one. Spotting Remus, he gave her an encouraging smile; Harry merely nodded and turned to Ginny. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but didn't have long to ponder it when deadly silence surrounded her. The air circulating around her seemed drenched. It felt as though the atmosphere was compressing about her, and prodding onto her mind. She could scarcely think, and momentarily wondered had a spell been cast. Her eyelids felt weighed down; she glanced around to see if anyone looked different. Everyone looked the same, blank expressions, awaiting a response. It looked as though Fudge was smiling.

"Hermione Granger?"

She looked up. _'Answer him - say yes!' _

"Yes," she spoke in a voice unlike her own.

Fudge launched into a long series of questions about Hermione's involvement in the war. What had she researched? Was it true she helped Harry Potter? Who did she fight? Where was she when Harry had killed Lord Voldemort? That had caused a few shudders. Then he asked about Ronald Weasley. She had dated him, correct? What happened? How had a young skilled potential Auror been killed? How had it happened when a young witch, who from her own testimony sounded very qualified, had been present?

Hermione's mind seemed to have answered all the questions till now...

'_What does this have to do with Pettigrew?' _

'_Just answer-' _

'_Why?' _

'_Tell him the truth; tell them you did it. Tell them you killed Ron.' _

'_No.' _

'_You killed him, didn't you?' _

'_No.' _

'_DIDN'T YOU?' _

Her own consciousness snapped back. "What does this have to do with Pettigrew?" Hermione asked, her voice sounded loaded.

"Answer the question, Miss Granger," Fudge demanded. His eyes caught something behind her.

This didn't go unnoticed, and the teenager glanced behind her, but there was nothing there. She could feel it; the pressure was falling on her mind again.

"Miss Granger, an answer please."

She went to open her mouth, when Dumbledore stood. "Minister, I don't believe this is of any relevance."

'_Dumbledore? When had he arrived?'_ She tried to replay the last few minutes of her life, but found she couldn't... what was going on?

Fudge continued to question the old Head Girl, all the time she could feel the prodding at her mind but she had become more aware of it. So when Fudge brought up Sirius Black, Hermione automatically shifted into cautious mode. Every time she was asked a question her mind automatically screamed the answer, but luckily her mouth was slower on the uptake. Which enabled her to formulate an answer better; though it was not helping that her mind was displeased she wasn't telling the whole truth.

Remus was becoming worried, Hermione had been sitting there for almost forty-five minutes, the other witnesses had spoke for a maximum of fifteen minutes. Not to mention, Fudge, the questions he was asking were inappropriate and it looked as tough he was looking beyond Hermione. What was he doing, there was nothing there. Remus was momentarily relieved when Dumbledore stopped the Minister. What had Ron's death have to do with anything? The break in the questions also seemed to wake Hermione up. She had been answering the questions fast, almost too quickly for his liking. He was even more thankful that Hermione was more alert, though not much more, when Fudge, started asking about Padfoot. Remus' eyes widened in shock when he heard the last question asked.

"Isn't it true Miss Granger, that you were aware of Sirius Black's location, when he escaped from Azakaban?"

Remus quickly turned his gaze to Hermione. Her face didn't seem anymore nervous then would be expected; yet her eyes showed she was having a mental argument. The werewolf looked across the crowded public gallery to where Dumbledore was seated, behind Fudge and to the right of Amelia Bones. Albus leaned forward and whispered in the Minister's ear. Fudge's face became stony as he announced to Hermione that they were finished.

The feeling of relief Hermione felt when she was told she could leave was indescribable. She immediately jumped from her seat and practically ran from the room. Outside, she took deep breaths of the colder air to compose her self, and then headed to meet Harry and Remus.

"That was horrible," Hermione whispered, when she sat beside Harry in the public gallery.

He mumbled something and nodded his head.

"Are you alright?" asked Remus.

"Of course Professor, a little shook up - but generally fine, Why do you ask?" she replied.

He looked her over, "just checking."

"How long was I there for?" Hermione asked.

"Almost an hour," Ginny said.

"An hour!"

"Shh!" Harry lightly hit her arm.

By the time Peter was led flanked by two Dementors, Hermione's head was swimming. She was drowsy but as soon as the Dementors entered the hall, she perked up like someone had thrown ice cold water at her. The emotion in the room was dark, and the expression of every wizard and witch showed the strain of the cloaked creatures' presence. After five minutes of hearing the wizard protest his innocence she had to leave.

"I'm going to go," she whispered. The looks in Harry and Remus' eyes didn't help either.

"We'll see you back at Grimmauld Place," Remus said darkly, never removing his gaze from the friend that had betrayed him.

Ginny waved solemnly, Harry ignored her.

'_What did I do?_'

* * *

Thus, she was sitting in Grimmauld Place when Remus delivered the news.

"The Kiss?!"

Remus Nodded.

Hermione felt nothing, no shock just emptiness. "When?"

"Three days time.

"Oh!"

"Take it Remus told you." Harry's voice called to her.

"Yeah.

"Are you going to come with us?" he questioned.

Hermione knitted her eyebrows. "Where?" she asked cautiously.

"To Azakaban, all the Order members have to be there," Ginny said. She was standing behind Harry holding his hand.

"I'm not going," Hermione automatically answered.

Harry's eyes darkened, "you have no choice.

"Yes I do," Hermione retorted standing up.

Ginny and Remus glanced at each other and wordlessly agreed it best to leave the two, to their stand-off. They both quickly exited the kitchen.

The nineteen-year-old male leaned across the table, his face almost touching Hermione's. He stared right into her chocolate coloured eyes and ordered. "You will be there Hermione." He stressed each word fully.

"And what will be achieved by my attendance?"

"Have you forgotten what he did?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"No."

"Then you'll go," he said softer, though his voice still sounded harsh.

"No."

He looked livid, Hermione had never seen him look this mad before, his eyes were glimmering desperately, and truthfully she was a little frightened of him. "I will not sit and watch someone's soul be sucked out of them, it's not right, whoever they are." She said as calmly as she could manage.

This only incensed Harry more, "Pettigrew's a monster and he deserves everything he gets!"

Hermione took a deep breath to calm her shaking voice, "I disagree Harry." She didn't need to fight with him, but she couldn't stop herself. Their friendship was strained since Ron's death and now was definitely no time to argue.

"Will it make you feel better?" she asked.

Harry turned away from her; she could see him clenching his fists, and the whites of his knuckles shone against his tanned skin.

"Well, will it?" she asked her voice rising again. "What good will it do Harry. He got his punishment what else-"

Harry broke her speech, banging his fist on the table. "God dam it Hermione! Have you forgotten everything?" His voice was so bitter it hurt.

"No," she responded sheepishly.

"That fucker killed my parents."

She looked down at the table.

"He stole Sirius away from us; he tried to kill Remus... should I go on?

"Yes Harry but-" her voice sounded so timid against Harry's deep growl.

"That bastard deserves everything he gets," he spat.

"I'm not denying that but-"

"And I will be there to make sure that he never comes back to ruin my life or anyone else's again."

"I understand-"

"No you don't," he shouted.

"For Merlin's sake Harry, let me speak," Hermione yelled. "I know what he did... I'm very aware of what he did... it's just..." She turned her gaze to the table, picking up a silver teaspoon she ran it between her fingers and spoke in a voice so quiet he almost didn't hear her. "I... it doesn't mean I want to witness his demise..."

He just looked at her, his eyes shinning with unspent tears. Swallowing the lump in his throat he said, "f... for Ron."

"Huh!"

"Go for Ron - you remember him don't you," Harry said bitterly.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Exactly what I said," he spat.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, she could taste salty liquid in her mouth; she hadn't realized she was crying. "Fuck you Potter - FUCK YOU!" she yelled throwing the spoon she had picked up earlier at Harry. He easily dodged it and the metal clanged in the stainless steel sink.

"That's it! I've had enough of you - if you don't think, I think about Ron every bloody day, then we've become more of a lost cause then I thought."

Harry only seemed to realize what he'd said.

Hermione leaned in close to Harry's face, so close she could smell his aftershave and whispered beside his ear, "Harry, you didn't stand helpless while your best friend was murdered - did you?"

"Hermione, sorry… I didn't-" he whispered, unable to catch her eye.

"No Potter," she sneered. "This time you went too far. You can just... just... Argh!" The young witch turned and marched out of the kitchen.

Harry threw the cup she had been drinking from against the wall. It shattered loudly, splattering droplets of cold coffee and porcelain to the floor.

* * *

Three days later Hermione found herself in a small rectangular balcony at Azakaban. The design of this particular section of the Wizard Prison, reminded Hermione of an amphitheatre. She couldn't help but be bitterly reminded of what had occurred in them too. She was sitting quietly beside Harry and every time she looked at him she could feel shivers run down her spine. She did not like this attitude of Harry's. Eventually she had conceded to go to Azakaban, she only went so Harry wouldn't hold it against her. Though she would prefer to be anywhere right now. She'd even prefer to be in Snape's bed than here. She shuddered.

Looking around the somber faces, she saw many she knew, either members of the 'Order of the Phoenix' or she had seen their faces at the trial. She couldn't help but wonder if some were here out of some perverse, morbid pleasure. On the balcony, directly across from her, she saw the Murphy family. Pettigrew was suspected of torturing their daughter Penelope and killing her husband. How many faces here had been in some way affected by the antics of the Death Eaters?

On her way in she had seen Tomas Chroniqueur, a journalist from the Daily Prophet, so they would have an article on this, probably with the headline: "Boy-who-lived; LIVES again!" or "Peace for Poor Potter."

The creaking of a door alerted Hermione, she allowed her eyes to look in the rectangular room below, and there she saw the pathetic form of Peter Pettigrew. Momentarily she wondered what they use to be frightened of this pale, squat, sheepish man. Peter was skittering around like a trapped mouse. Banging on the now invisible doorway, he had entered through.

A loud hateful voice, possibly a woman's, resounded equally about the balconies. "Peter Pettigrew - you have been convicted by a jury of your peers to receive the Kiss. By Wizarding Code, you are entitled to your last words."

Hermione shivered, this was sick and the voice was so cold. Pettigrew's beady little eyes darted around the balconies as he pleaded in a sullen voice, "I didn't do it, I didn't do anything - I'm innocent." Finally he rested his gaze upon Harry, Hermione noticed the helplessness there, and for some reason a strand of hope. "Harry y... you said before - th... that J... James wouldn't..."

"Shut up!" Harry screamed. "Never speak his name."

She couldn't look; turning away from the sickeningly harsh and deep voice she caught a pair of silvery grey cold eyes. Gasping with realization, they belonged to Draco Malfoy, Death Eater.

She couldn't take it anymore, it was choking her, Harry's hate, the pleading of a damned man and Malfoy's smirk; it was laughing at her. She had to leave. Standing abruptly, she swiftly exited the chamber only to hear a spine-chilling scream.

Entering her front door, Hermione threw her keys on the hall table. The smell of cooking reached her nostrils, but the sweet aroma only reminded her of the stench of Azakaban.

"Hermione? Sweetheart! How did it go?" her mother or maybe it was her father asked.

She didn't care - she'd damned a man! Running towards the bathroom she swung the door closed. She had thrown the cheap wood with such force that it reopened, to reveal the bushy haired girl retching over the toilet.

Hermione sat back, leaning her back against the plastic molded bathtub, shivering. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. She had damned a man's soul, her testimony helped in the murder of a man. He wasn't an innocent but she still felt tainted. She couldn't remove the image of his eyes and his pitiful cries for help, echoed in her head.

"Get out... get out..." she whispered to herself through sobs.

She felt dirty; she needed to wash away the filth. Only, scrubbing her hands and skin red raw didn't help. She could feel the emotion, the sickness, guilt, evil flowing thickly through her veins, clumping in her lungs, seeping through her scalp. Hermione ran a hand disgustedly through her brown hair; it was here too.

Eying a silver implement, she grabbed it and started to cut. She needed to remove it from her. The tears steadily flowed down her cheek. A sharp intake of breath at the door, made Hermione look up, Mrs. Granger stared at her daughter, tears rolling down Hermione's pale and blotchy skin. Long, uneven clumps of brown hair surrounded her scrunched form on the lino.

Kneeling down beside her daughter, she removed the scissors from the weak grasp and lovingly caressed Hermione's head.

"Your hair!" Mrs. Granger said sadly.

* * *

_June 2000_

It was a month since Azakaban; Hermione hadn't seen Harry as he was training in France with a colleague of 'Mad Eye' Moody's. She had made a decision about her job offer, she could not work for a man who could use the Kiss or not charge the Death Eaters for what had happened Professor Lupin. She had some money in Gringotts; her Great-Aunt had left her some. She would do something with that instead. The idea of traveling has occurred to her; she always wanted to go to Mexico and Peru. However, after accidentally bumping into some ex-Hogwart's students, she put that idea on hold.

Knocking on 12 Grimmauld Place, she was answered by an improved looking Professor Lupin. It was a horrible thought, but since Peter's death Remus was looking less worried. Hermione followed the ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor into the kitchen, where he offered her some tea or coffee.

"I still can't believe you cut your hair," said Remus.

Hermione glanced at her hands; that wasn't her finest hour. Forcing a smile she said, "I fancied a change Professor."

After a moments silence Remus spoke, "So... not that I mind the visit, but... why have you called?"

"Well I was in Diagon Alley last week and I bumped into Susan Lyons, do you remember her? Ravenclaw prefect, two years ahead of us."

Remus nodded.

"Anyway, she asked me to go to lunch and well I had nothing planned so I went. I met some of her friends, one of them Kevin Raftery-

Hermione subconsciously blushed causing Remus to smirk. However, she didn't notice and continued to talk.

"- well he said that 'Tiberius' Apothecary' was shutting down and that the owner would be renting the premise... eh, I know the owner quite well, so we had a nice chat and he's agreed to rent me the space and at a reduced price too. Actually, that was more Kevin's conversational skills..." she smiled.

Remus asked, "What do you plan on opening?"

"A book shop."

"Should have guessed!" he mocked.

"Well that's not why I came though... I was wondering... I'll understand if you don't want to... but maybe... perhaps..."

"Hermione just tell me, you're making no sense," Remus smiled over the rim of his teacup.

"Professor, would you like to work with me?" she blurted out.

The werewolf's eyes widened slightly and he placed his teacup gently on its saucer. "You want me to work for you?"

She nodded. "Well not for, but _with_ me."

"Em..."

"You don't have to Professor," she said a little disappointed.

Remus surveyed her for a moment, "if I did you'd have to do something for me."

"Anything," she replied eagerly.

"Stop calling me Professor!" he smirked.

* * *


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Eight **

* * *

_The shrill ringing of a telephone wakes Hermione up. She fell asleep as soon as she had entered her room that day; she is on holiday with her parents and lying under a baking sun all day had that strange affect of making her sleepy. The tangy smell of seaweed wafts up her nose, the scent has clung to her shirt from when her father chased her through the water earlier. She loves the beach, loves the feeling of the grainy yet smooth sand, how it has that ability to absorb the sun's heat and expel it onto her skin. The telephone persists in its ringing, taking a quick glance out the window she sees that clouds are gathering and hanging over the hill. With all the hot weather a storm has been predicted, and it appears it is almost here. _

_"Hello," Hermione says groggily into the receiver. _

_No answer. _

_That effectively wakes her up. "Hello... Hello," her voice becomes more anxious than normal. "Hello - Who's there?" _

_All she can hear is the heavy panting of the person on the other end; it sounds as if they have run for miles. _

_"Hermione!" the voice shouts. _

_She holds the receiver away from her ear, the only person she knew to do that was - "Ron?" she asks. _

_"Quick Hermione quick, he's coming." _

_"Who Ron, who's coming?" _

_"Hermione run, run Hermione." _

_"Who is it Ron?" _

_The line goes dead, but she continues to call his name desperately. She is enveloped in darkness. Who is coming? Grabbing her wand she hides beneath her desk under a pile of discarded clothes. There is someone outside on the hotel stairs. She hears the creak of the faulty fifth step. It could be any of the hotel guests except the muffled strides have ceased outside her door. The person or people are rattling the faux gold doorknob. _

_She swallows; this was it. _

_She can not see the intruder's face but the moonlight picks up something clutched in his or her hand. Hermione stifles a gasp when realisation strikes her. "But your dead!" she whispers in shock, clutching her wand closer to her chest. _

_The man sniffs the air in an over exaggerated fashion. "Fe fi fo fud, I smell the stench of a Mudblood!" _

_Hermione takes small shallow breaths, to prevent herself breathing too heavily. _

_"Where, O! Where is my little girl gone?" the mocking voice continues. _

_Her stomach turns, that is something her father used to say when she was younger and they played 'Hide and Seek'. _

_"Come out Sweetheart, Daddy wants to talk to you." _

_"Stop it... stop it," she whispers to herself. Unknowingly her voice is steadily getting louder. _

_A smirk crosses the Death Eater's face. _

_"Well, well I found the little bunny." _

_He grabs her wrist tightly in his silver grasp, causing tears of pain to form. Pettigrew pulls her roughly from her hiding place and slams her against the wall and winding her. _

_His hot breath caresses her neck and he whispers against her ear, "I can see why that idiot likes you." _

_Hermione closes her eyes tightly, "One, two, three wake up. One, two, three wake up." _

_A mocking voice rings in her ear, "That's not going to help sweetie." _

_"Stop it... Stop it," she screams. She feels her body hit the ground with a thud. Opening her eyes she notices she is on the floor but away from the sickening man, who is approaching her again. _

_"Your dead - this isn't real." _

_"Oh! You'd like that wouldn't you? - If I was dead." His voice is so much stronger than she remembers. _

_"No I saw..." _

_"Did you? I remember you running away. You never saw The Kiss." _

_"No... No... Harry would have told me," her voice is so feeble in comparison. _

_"Harry!" the man laughs throatily. _

_She is backing away from the offender, but knows she will soon have nowhere to go. She feels the doorknob prod into her lower back. _

_"Who do you think let me go?" Peter laughs. _

_"That's a lie - YOUR DEAD!" she screams with as much conviction she can muster. Her hand snakes around her back to find the handle. _

_"You're dead!" _

_She runs out of the room and down the staircase, jumping the last few steps into the empty lobby. Hermione runs through the revolving doors and stops outside what should have been the front of the Madison Hotel, but she is standing in the driveway of her childhood home. She looks down to see she is still dressed in the white skirt and is bare foot. Knowing the attacker is right behind her, she will have to run. It starts to rain, it seems the storm had followed her too. _

_The uneven, sharp sides of the gravel driveway dig into her unshod feet. Trying to ignore the jabbing pains she heads towards the football pitch at the end of the street. Hermione is alone; all the houses appear to be empty. She hears the crunch of shoes on stone and knows Pettigrew is not far behind. _

_She quickens her pace and hurdles over the fence of the pitch. She lands awkwardly on her unsupported ankle and winces in pain. She can not dwell on it - she had to keep going. _

_Hermione's pace is slower but she is still ahead, hobbling along, dragging her bad leg behind her, she heads for a wood in the distance - the tree cover should make it easier to escape. _

_Suddenly there is a burst of lightning and wind coupled with rain and hail. The storm has arrived in all its splendour! _

_The rain splatters in the mud around her, she can feel the earth softening beneath her feet, squelching and squeezing through the gaps of her toes. _

_She is almost there; all she needs to do is cross the football pitch. The rain is hindering her view; heavy drops pelt and sting her face. Her clothing clings to her as she wobbles along, the pain in her feet is becoming too much. She knows the man is closing the distance behind her, he curses as his foot lodges in the liquidating ground. _

_Hermione cries and collapses on the mud. Her skirt has caught an outstretched bramble, which peeps through and gashes her leg. She lays her head back in the mud, she tries to control her erratic breathing as the rain and hail continues to beat against her muddy complexion. _

_This is it; the Death Eater will finally do the thing she fears most. _

_"Given up?" jeers the nasal voice. _

_No! She can not give in this easily. Her breathing heavy, she crawls along. Loosened stones and twigs scratch her hands and scrape her now bare knees. Her no longer white skirt, trails behind dragging in the mud and soaking in the blood of her feet and legs. _

_A hand reaches down and picks the girl up by the back of her shirt. _

_"There's no point in running... or crawling in your case." _

_Hermione shakes her head no, tears mix with blood; mud and rain run down her frozen cheeks. _

_The attacker's offending hand brushes back some of the brown curls that have matted to her forehead. _

_A pleased grin crosses his face. _

_She falls with a squelch to the ground. _

_Pettigrew is gone. _

_Where? _

_She pulls herself up the best she can. Someone else is there, red hair, tall - he is holding Pettigrew back. _

_"Hermione run," the voice shouts. _

_She knows this man; she has known him since she was eleven, where has he come from? "Ron?" _

_"Go now!" his voice shouts desperately. _

_"I can't leave you," her feeble tone is carried away on the picking up wind. "Not again." _

_"Wake up," Ron commands. "It's just a dream - GO NOW, he needs you..." _

_"Who?" _

_"Hermione GO!" _

* * *

Her eyes opened suddenly. She was still breathing heavily and she could feel the moistness of her cheeks. It took a few moments for her to remember where she was. A dream, she hadn't remembered a dream in seven years, why now?

Ron had saved her, again. "He needs you..." ran through her mind. Who needs me? Harry?

_'Hermione relax, it was only a dream.' _

Crashing sounds from next door carried through the wall.

She held her breath.

Again the sounds of knocked over implements, either breaking or thumping against the carpet, resounded about the room.

She climbed out of bed, her fingers twitching for her wand. Cautiously she headed in the direction of Sirius' bedroom.

The sounds had ceased.

Taking a deep breath, she threw open the door, not knowing what to expected.

Nothing.

No one was there except for the body sleeping in the bed. She looked about her before approaching the slumbering man, releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding. Various items from the bedside locker dotted the carpet. Gingerly reaching out her hand she touched Sirius' face. She pulled back; he was burning up - with a fever.

Hermione cursed to herself, was this a side affect? Or was he allergic to one of the ingredients?

They had been alone in the flat for two weeks - before anything happened.

* * *

_Hermione washed her cup from breakfast and placed it on the draining board. Sirius hadn't appeared for breakfast, in fact she'd hardly seen the ex-convict in the last two weeks. _

_Tap... tap. _

_She shook her head. _

_Tap... tap. _

_She looked up; Hedwig was at the kitchen window. Hermione opened the small window above her sink allowing the snowy owl entrance. Removing the owl's burden, she offered him some dry toast; she hadn't touched. Hedwig hooted in thanks and flew off. She opened the owl. _

_Hermione, _

_Good news, Snape says the potion can be used now. Remus will drop it over later tonight. I can't make it, Molly has forbidden me... apparently there's too much wedding work to do. I don't get it; it's still four months away. How much planning needs to be done? Minister, groom's robes, wedding dress, and venue - that takes more than four months! _

_Look I'll see you as soon as I can sneak away. _

_H.P. _

_Hermione smirked as she placed the letter on the table. Glancing around the noticeably empty kitchen, she sighed. _

_"Just a few hours to wait." They had decided it would be best if few people as possible knew about Sirius._

* * *

"Help me," a weak voice called out.

"Shh! Sirius it is ok, I'm here," Hermione said placing her hand on his. The dark haired man rolled over to her, but he didn't open his eyes, "hurts" he choked out.

She couldn't give him anything. A pain-relief potion could counter-act the memory potion he had taken and she had no Muggle medication with her. She couldn't be sure either, if it was safe to give him; again unsure of the consequences.

* * *

_"Hermione... HERMIONE!" _

_The sudden calling of her name jolted the young witch awake. She had fallen asleep on her bed reading. Pulling herself up and wiping her eyes she walked to the door. As she opened it, the offending voice shouted her name again. _

_"Plan on waking the dead?" She stifled a yawn. _

_"I didn't know if you were in," Remus replied smirking._

_"It's not a very big flat! So have you got the potion?" _

_"Yes, come I'll make you some coffee and tell you how it works." _

_"So, let's see if I've got this straight," Hermione said, taking a sip of her hot drink. _

_Remus grinned - he knew she didn't need to relate what he'd said, that she got it the first time around, but she still needed to make sure. _

_"This one," Hermione held up the smallest phial, it was a dirty green colour, "to be taken tonight and then both of those." She indicated to an acid green one and a purple one. "Tomorrow morning on an empty stomach. That it?" _

_Remus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, "yes." _

_"So... should I give it to him tonight then?" _

_"Yes - I think that'd be best." Remus stood. _

_"Aren't you staying for dinner?" _

_"I'm sorry I can't, Tonks already has it made." _

_"Oh! Well say hello," she forced herself to smile. _

_If Remus noticed he made no comment other than, "I'll call again in two days time Hermione, goodbye." _

_He was gone, leaving her alone in the kitchen again. _

* * *

"P...please," his voice sounded so hoarse.

Her heart broke at his pleading. She cupped his hand in hers and held tightly but gently, "It's OK the pain will be gone soon." She didn't know this. What if it was an allergic reaction?

"H... Herm..." his voice failed.

"Yes it is - I'm here, you'll be ok."

Sirius' eyes fluttered open, but he continued to blink. For a moment he stared at her before pulling his hand forcefully away from hers.

"Who are you?"

Hermione cursed. "Hermione, Sirius it's me."

"Your not Hermione."

"I am"

"Death Eater!" he yelled.

Death Eater? She tried not to smile at the man's confusion. "Did you say Death Eater?"

He was getting increasingly angry, "What did you give me?" he commanded.

"Nothing - you need to sleep." If he didn't stop soon, she'd have no choice but to jinx him.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously at her, "Why can't I remember anything?" Sirius appeared to be attempting to unknot himself from the sheets.

"What are you doing?" she scolded.

"Leaving, you can't keep me here." He answered angrily.

"And how do you propose to do that, if you can't even get out of bed?" she asked grinning.

He looked about to reply when his face paled suddenly. Leaning he vomited over the side of the bed.

No longer annoyed with him, Hermione moved to sit beside him, rubbing her hand over his back, she cooed reassuring words to him. Hermione conjured a glass of cold water; she placed the cool container to his chapped lips.

"Drink some water Sirius."

He allowed some of the water to flow soothingly down his throat. Hermione laid Sirius back onto the bed, swung his legs up and covered him up with his blankets.

"Now get some sleep," she ordered. She caressed her thumb along his forehead, until the man's breathing softened and became steadier.

Ensuring Sirius was asleep; she went to the kitchen to retrieve a bucket of warm water, cloth and some other items to clean the mess. She couldn't leave him alone again in case he had another turn. There was no way of contacting Harry or Remus until tomorrow. So she would need to spend the night in Sirius' room. She dragged an armchair to Sirius' bedside and summoned her blankets from her room. Here she curled up and eventually fell asleep.

He didn't know what time it was, only that a bright light was shining in his eyes. Groaning in a mixture of annoyance and stiffness he rolled over and opened his eyelids. There was a moist cloth by his head, which must, at some point have been on his forehead.

He noticed as well a small hand was gripped to his like a clamp, but at an awkward angle to the way the body was lying on the armchair. Her face was hidden as she was turned into the back of the seat. Releasing her hand he pulled himself out of the bed. His head was throbbing and his mouth felt like cotton wool, what did he drink last night?

The blankets had fallen from the young woman's body; she was shivering. He picked up the discarded sheets and tucked them around her. His touch against her neck woke the girl up.

Leaning up on her elbows and clicking her back into place and mumbled a sleepy, "Hey, you're awake."

He didn't reply.

"Heathcliff," she said her voice more awake.

The man surveyed the young girl on the seat, "Who are you? And who is Heathcliff?"

* * *


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N:** Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

* * *

**In Dreams**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Sirius looked suspiciously at the young woman seated before him. Her sleepy expression had long vanished; his outburst appeared to have cured her of it. She was frozen, very much awake and her eyes darted nervous about the room.

"Who are you?" he asked a second time stressing each word.

Shrinking under his glare she quietly replied, "Hermione."

To her eternal surprise he laughed, a rumbling, low mock that was disbelieving in its tone and veering on contempt. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," she countered. He was using his height as an advantage; he was not going to make this easy for her.

"If you're going to pretend to be someone," he drawled. "At least do it right."

Hermione went over the application of the potion in her head; she momentarily wondered if Snape had sabotaged the potion, she wasn't proud of that. There must have been some unforeseen side effects to the potion. How had she lost control of the situation?

"For a start she's a lot younger than you are and her hair…" he gestured wildly around his head. "Is a lot bigger – not to mention she's only a kid."

For some reason his bluntness hurt. Everything he said was true, the last time he'd seen her she was only a kid, but still his apparent ease at calling her one was insulting. She liked to think that when she was sixteen, she was quite mature.

Sirius was aware of the girl's discomfort, he learnt at a young age how to take advantage of other's intimidation. His face distorted with disgust and he began pacing the room, asserting his control. "So even though you don't fit the description – you still claim to be my godson's best friend?" he asked, sneering.

She didn't answer. This was crazy, this was Sirius. Hermione gripped the arms of the chair and slowly eased herself up.

"So whose idea was it?" he shouted louder than necessary, aware his control was slipping.

"What?"

"To pretend to be Hermione – honestly, to think I wouldn't know what she looked like."

"Sirius you are making no sense – sit down so I can explain," she said exasperated.

"Tell me who you are first."

She took her time to reply, lifting her blanket of the chair she started to meticulously fold it. "Sirius, I am Hermione Granger."

"Look," he said, leaning in close to her head, grabbing but not removing the material in her hand. His voice little more than a whisper, "we've established your not Granger, so who are you?"

Hermione snatched back the cover irritated. "Sirius, I'm going to make breakfast, when you calm down I'll explain to you what happened."

Sirius being naturally quicker than the young witch reached the door first and blocked her way. He pushed out his chest to give the impression he was bigger.

Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. "Move or I will hex you - don't tempt me."

Reluctantly the older man moved from the doorway and just as Hermione reached the end of the hall, she heard Sirius curse and yell. "Where is my wand?"

She grinned and continued to the kitchen. She'd barely sat down when she heard the slap of bare feet running down the hall. The man burst through the door and banged his fists on the cluttered table.

"Explain," he exclaimed, His eye catching a bill addressed to Hermione.

Sirius stared dumdfounded at the brown envelope, turning it over, half hoping it was not real. He looked sheepishly at her, letter clutched in his hand. "So you're really Hermione?" he said disbelievingly.

Hermione nodded.

"What did you do to your hair?"

She snorted faintly. "Merlin but aren't you vain, of all the things you could have asked me."

He didn't miss the tone, "but it was you!"

"And I wanted a change… a lot has happened Sirius. You where missing a long time, ten years."

"Ten!" he fell with a thump into a kitchen chair.

Hermione nibbled on a slice of toast, "what's the last thing you remember?"

Sirius dropped his face into his hands his fingers wrapped tightly in his hair. He tilted his head towards Hermione, only the tips of his eyes where visible shrouded beneath strands of hair. "Duelling LeStrange," he uttered.

"Don't you remember being in Yorkshire?" Hermione asked her earlier frustration replaced with concern.

"No – why?" His head shot up.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you? Ok, where do I start… that night in the Department of Mysteries you fell through 'The Veil'. Do you recall the stone arch with the tattered curtains?"

He nodded, picking at a stain on his white t-shirt.

"Well you fell into it," Hermione took a deep breath. "Because of a curse Bellatrix hit you with. The thing is, we all… everyone. No one really understands how 'The Veil' works. Many Unspeakables think it's a gateway to the realm of the dead. There are many references to it in books, but as anything that went through never came back, no one really understands. We thought you were dead."

Sirius grasped a spoon and glimpsed his reflection. "I look pretty good for a corpse!" He turned to her grinning, but she didn't need the clues to know it was an empty joke.

"You must have been frozen or something because you haven't aged in ten years."

He shook his head and asked gently, "What was I doing in Yorkshire?"

"Working on a Muggle farm."

He smiled sardonicallyand said, "Care to explain."

"I was in York to pick up a book and got lost on my way home. I don't if it was coincidence or luck but I came across the house you were staying in and took you home. Honestly, I don't know you weren't very forthcoming with the details. It appears that you were helping out the family that found you."

"How is it I don't recall any of this?" he inquired.

"It must be a side effect of the potion we gave you called _Recordoranimus_. It's a new one. It seems to have awoken your Sirius Black memories whilst erasing any you had as Heathcliff. If that's permanent, I don't know."

"So that's why you called me Heathcliff earlier."

She nodded. "Charles called you that."

"This is a bit much to take," he said quietly, accepting a mug of tea from Hermione. He raised his head to meet her. "How do I know your telling the truth?"

"You'll just have to thrust me," she offered.

Sirius looked up, a sad smile gracing his face, "Harry, I've missed another ten years of his life."

"I don't think he'll resent you," she said, standing up to make some more toast. "Want some?"

He declined.

"Where's Harry now?" Sirius asked.

"He's at the Burrow."

"With Ron?"

There was a sharp clang, as the butter knife fell to the floor. "No," Hermione answered, bending down to retrieve the utensil. Turning back to the counter she continued, "with Ginny."

"Ginny?"

"They're getting married."

The shock was getting Sirius, how much more could he take. "Harry can't get married, he's only fifteen," he mumbled.

"Twenty-five," Hermione corrected, "just like me."

"Yeah, you have grown up," he muttered.

Hermione retook her seat and began absently running a finger along the rim of her coffee cup.

"What about Remus?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, he's fine. He works with me and is practically married to Tonks."

He'd had his suspicions about Tonks but never would he have believed Remus to reciprocate, not with the age difference. "Did they put something in the water at Grimmauld Place?"

Hermione grinned, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"What about you?" asked Sirius.

"Me?" she replied confused.

"I suppose you dated Ron."

Hermione didn't look up from her cup, but nodded. "We dated in Seventh Year."

"Oh!" he said, "and now?"

"Like I said a lot has happened."

"Apart from my godson being engaged and my best friend dating my cousin, care to fill me in?"

"I don't think it's my place to tell you everything."

"Why not?" he asked irritated. "Obviously it was seen as alright that you stayed with me last night."

She tried to ignore the bitterness in his voice; her heart had started to race since the mention of Ron. "What do you want to know?"

"Voldemort?"

"Gone – Harry vanquished him after we graduated, this time for good. Every part of him destroyed. But maybe you should talk to Remus about that."

"Death Eaters?"

"Much like the first time, most were caught, some escaped or claimed innocence."

"Peter," he spat.

"Peter," she repeated, she had subconsciously started curling a finger in her short hair. "He's dead, they gave him 'The Kiss'."

"Oh!" he whispered. His reply sounded regretful to Hermione's ear, but maybe she heard wrong.

"So everyone's trying to get back to his or her life then?" he asked.

"As best they can," she replied. Sometimes you forgot just how long ten years really was, and just how fast it could go by.

Their conversation was quiet and short. The ability they'd had to talk animatedly about anything seemed to have vanished. It seemed forced and awkward to both of them.

"Where…. Eh… are Moony and Harry coming over?" questioned Sirius.

"Later."

"Oh." Sirius desperately needed to make conversation, talking to Hermione was hard and she wasn't giving him anything to work with he'd have more luck with the wall. Right now he needed to keep his mind of being dead!

"So…" he began. "You never said how Ron was, he still baiting you into arguments."

"No."

"Ah…" he said scratching his unshaved chin awkwardly.

"He's dead," she whispered.

Sirius froze. "What? When, I don't understand, how?"

She looked up from her cold coffee, her eyes glistening. "Death Eaters killed him."

"Oh! I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry about."

"Yeah but…"

"I'd rather not talk about it," said Hermione pushing back her chair from the table and depositing her cup and plate in the sink.

"Any idea, when Remus will get here?" It never crossed his mind that something could be wrong.

"I'll go send him an owl," she said leaving the Sirius alone and confused in the kitchen. He jumped at the sudden pop of the toaster.

* * *

"Padfoot!"

"Moony, mate!" Sirius called brightly grabbing Remus and embracing his old friend in a tight hug. He turned to Harry ruffling his hair playfully, "so I hear you're getting married."

Harry blushed and mumbled something incoherently and Sirius noted Hermione smile, though it was a very fake one. His eyebrows knitted in confusion but he didn't have long to contemplate it as Harry winded him with a sudden tight hug.

The four ex-members of the Order sat around the wooden table in Hermione's kitchen. They sat and spoke of little things, what they were all doing. Harry spoke about his latest case and how it was irritating Mrs. Weasley to no end, because it meant he was at work late. Hermione suspected he stayed more than necessary, that if he really wanted the time off, he could have. Molly was a little demanding.

"Well," Remus said. "Harry you'll be there. The Weasley's are all coming. Tonks wants to give Molly the day off for Christmas, mind you she'll probably still spend her time in the kitchen."

"Sirius?" asked Remus.

"Oh, I'll be there, any chance to embarrass you and the wife."

Remus reddened slightly. Hermione lifted her head really fast and caught Sirius' wink.

"I'm… we're not married."

"That's not what I heard, mate. I believe the exact words were Remus and Nymphie were practically married," Sirius said with an innocent expression.

"Just a warning mate, never call her Nymphadora."

Sirius smiled, "got you on a short leash then."

Remus ignored the comment and turned to face an increasingly embarrassed Hermione. He was about to speak when a loud crash was heard. "That'll be my lovely Tonks now."

"Hello… hello," Tonks yelled cheerfully entering the kitchen. "Hermione, had trouble with your door. The key got stuck or something. Sorry knocked into your shelf in the hall but don't worry nothing's broken."

Tonks plonked a canvas bag to the kitchen table that clinked on contact. "I hope they didn't break," she joked pulling out two bottles of Firewhiskey. "And for you Hermione, white wine. Got some nibbles too."

Hermione stared at the piles of crisp packets amounting on her kitchen table. "We should probably move to the sitting room, it's warmer in there," she said.

Sirius took a seat on the lone armchair; he had just sat when Tonks jumped on his lap and refused to leave.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder, her hair its natural dark brown, and nuzzled into his neck. "Merlin, I missed you so much," she mumbled.

"I miss you too," Sirius said glancing at Remus for help. Sirius was never very good at dealing with extreme emotions.

Remus understood the look. "Tonks… Tonks, let him breath. You don't want to make me jealous?"

"No, I'm not getting up until you promise never to leave again."

"I promise," Sirius said softly.

She loosened her grip but didn't get off his knee. "We all really missed you."

"Remus, not that you don't matter Sirius, but more importantly how's the shop?" Hermione said genially. Aware that if she didn't say something the night would only go one way and there was too much alcohol for that.

"Fine, it runs grand without you – and you're still on your break so stop worrying about it."

"You two work together?" asked Sirius.

"Yes, in a bookshop," said Hermione.

"A bookshop?" Sirius tried to read her face. It was a practiced expression, he knew about those. "I always thought you'd end up in the Ministry."

"Remember the time that kid robbed the book?" interjected Remus foreseeing the imminent argument.

"I haven't heard this one." Harry said leaning forward and pouring himself a drink.

"Ok, well. This boy he was about what 12?"

"14," Hermione corrected automatically.

"The boy was in the shop and he was looking really shifty. And he knocks over a pile of books to distract Hermione and take the opportunity to grab a book and runs out of the shop. The boy could be an athlete… Hermione is off in a flash after him. She chases him through Diagon Alley and eventually she pulls out her wand and curses him. However, instead of just immobilising him, she sends him flying. Thankfully the kid is not hurt, but she feels so bad about it that she gives the boy the book for free," said Remus.

"He told me it was a dare."

"He was probably terrified of you," said Harry.

"He _was _terrified," Remus agreed. "But yet, he couldn't help looking at the book on Ancient Runes and handing it back to her."

"Right, when you three have quite finished embarrassing me," Hermione said crossing her arms.

"So I was thinking," said Harry. "That we should all go to a Quidditch match together. That could be fun. It's been a while."

Remus looked at Hermione's face, he knew she would go if necessary, but that she was not a fan. "That sounds like a lovely idea, maybe we could do dinner before hand?"

"Sounds like a plan," Tonks added.

"Top up?" Sirius asked holding the bottle over Hermione's glass.

"Just a small one," she replied holding her wine glass to the lip of the bottle.

"Hermione doesn't drink a lot Sirius, not since New Years Eve four years ago."

"Tonks!" she said threateningly. "Don't."

Tonks changed her hair to a shocking pink and smirked. "It was at a party that Kevin's friends were throwing. They weren't going out yet so Hermione asked me and Remus to go. Of course the _old _man wouldn't go." She leaned over and kissed her boyfriend's cheek affectionately before he could say anything.

"Who's Kevin?" asked Sirius.

"Hermione's boyfriend," said Harry. "He's away with work, Spain isn't it?"

"Yes, he works for the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Oh! That's nice, thought he might have been a Muggle," Sirius commented.

"No."

"Good," Sirius replied shortly.

"Why?"

"No reason."

Tonks gave Sirius a look before speaking again. "Anyway… Kevin disappeared somewhere and Hermione drank a _little _bit too much. She was sitting on the couch fairly tipsy and she starts smiling at his guy standing across the room. To be fair, the guy was very good looking." She's interrupted by a soft cough. "But obviously not as attractive as Remus!"

"Good," Remus joked.

"Is this really necessary?" Hermione asks dreading the answer.

"Yes," Sirius said simply leaning back in his seat and sipping his Firewhiskey.

"Sorry Hermione, they have spoken. Where was I, oh yeah, she's smiling at the guy and starts beckoning him over. He thought he was in there. Hermione looks at him with the straightest face, and says 'you know your eyes are the shape of liverfluke and the colour of Flobberworm pus.' He thought she was joking, but she wasn't. She gave him a list of books he could use to compare his eyes to, and insisted he read an article… who was by?

"Annelid Pearl,"she mumbled.

"Yeah that was it, because it had wonderful colour frames. Poor guy had no idea what was going on."

"That's unfair. I'd been reading about the new study on the properties of Flobberworm Pus earlier, so it was obviously still on my mind. Where the liverfluke came from? I've no idea," argued Hermione.

"I heard about this," Harry interjects. "Isn't that the time Hermione woke up the next morning, half lying on a sofa and clutching a garden gnome?"

"It was a ceramic one, and needless to say I never touched tequila again! You should be careful what you say _Nymphadora_, I've one or two stories about you," Hermione threatened.

"Wait, that can't be it," Sirius said leaning forward. "How'd you end up sleeping with a gnome?"

"That, you will never know."

"Don't think she remembers," added Harry.

Hermione ignored him and was about to reply when Harry spoke, "Oh Merlin, look at the time, I'd better be going. Sirius we'll meet up just the two of us."

"You're leaving," Sirius said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Yeah, Molly wants to do more wedding planning early tomorrow, and as it is I'll have a killer hangover."

Sirius grinned mischievously, "and here I thought it was Ginny you were marrying."

Harry reddened, and Tonks interrupted to save Harry more blushes. "I'd better be off too. Shaklebolt has me in, in oh! Four hours… Come here you." She grabs Sirius in tight hug. "Don't you _ever_ think of doing that to me again," she chastised with a bright smile.

Hermione walked them to the door. On her way back the conversation in the room caught her attention.

"She told me about Ron," Sirius' voice said.

Hermione moved closer to the door, through the gap she could make out Remus' back and half of Sirius' face, but they couldn't see her.

"Really, what did she say?" Remus' voice asked.

"Just that Death Eaters got him, why what did happen?"

"That's it, only no one knows which one."

"How does Hermione know then?" questioned Sirius.

Remus replied, "She was there."

"Oh Merlin… that explains a lot."

"Like?"

"Just the way she reacted when I mentioned his name, is she ok?"

"Most of the time," said Remus.

Sirius nodded. "So dating my cousin, a girl thirteen years younger than you. I remember a certain werewolf telling me that an age difference that great was wrong."

Hermione couldn't see Remus' face but he whispered a reply that sounded like, "That was different, Padfoot."

Sirius was going to reply, but Hermione took this opportunity to re-enter the sitting room.

"So what have we decided?" she asked.

Remus paled to Hermione's confusion, "what do you mean?"

"Well now that Sirius sort of remembers, is he staying here. Is he staying on your sofa or Grimmauld Place?"

Neither replied her.

"Sirius, you're welcome to stay with me for awhile. Kevin is still away and most of your belongings are still in the spare room. Neither of your other options sounds too pleasant."

"Well Padfoot, you can stay with Tonks and I," offered Remus. "I doubt Harry would mind either."

"No," Sirius grinned. "I'll take Hermione up on her offer."

"Padfoot, really, you can stay with us." Hermione didn't see the pointed look from the werewolf.

"I'd enjoy the company Remus," Hermione added.

Sirius smirked, "there you go Moony, that's that sorted."

"What will Kevin think?" Remus asked Hermione.

"I'm sure he'll understand Remus," she continued, oblivious to the glances shared between the two best friends.

"Well I'm beat, I'm of to bed," said Hermione stifling a yawn. "Remus you're welcome to stay."

After Hermione had exited the room Remus turned to Sirius, "Padfoot, you're asking for trouble."

Sirius just smiled.

* * *


End file.
